


Questioning Beliefs: Cullen Rutherford

by bevans87



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Inquisitor Cullen Rutherford, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Magic-Users, Mental Instability, Nightmares, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Scars, Smut, Torture, Travel, mental scars, physical scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:04:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bevans87/pseuds/bevans87
Summary: Some people change your life the moment you meet them.  Sometimes it takes a while for the connection to take hold. For Cullen Rutherford, life has put him through so many hardships and, with the help of a few friends, he hopes that his life is on track for better/happier things.  But when he becomes the sole survivor of an explosion that levels the Temple of Sacred Ashes during the Divine's Conclave, he must use the magic of the Anchor to save to world while trying to balance his addiction, fears, and desires





	1. The Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea a while back and it just came to life. Hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> *** Time/POV shifts

Cassandra is completely at a loss for words.  She never imagined this to be the outcome of the conclave and she blames herself.  A man that she calls a friend and ally is now the only survivor of the horrific explosion that has killed hundreds.  She and Leliana lean against the door frame as a bald apostate elf and an elf from one of the circles struggle to keep him alive.

The female elf looks up at the Seeker.  She is bleeding from a wound on her face, not having had a chance to heal herself, yet he has all of her focus.  “He’s resisting.  Isn’t there something you can do about that?”

The bald elf shakes his head and shoots her a glare.  “This… mark is responding to my efforts.  Maybe you just need to try harder, mage.”

She sneers at him.  Her lip drawn up revealing her teeth.  “He won’t live long enough to try your theory if he won’t let me heal him.”

Leliana sighs and folds her arms over her chest.  She knew why Cassandra hesitated to set the lyrium in his blood a flame, to burn it all away.  It was risky in his condition.  “We have to try something.  Even if we have to force feed him then to save him again.”

Cassandra sighs and hangs her head.  “He’s going to be furious.”  She looks over at the hooded spy, “How are his men fairing?”

“They are keeping the demons at bay, but without their Commander, they are faltering.  I should probably go out there and assist them.”  Cassandra nods sharply and Leliana rushes out of the room.  She watches the female elf try again and again to heal his wounds.

“Can you tell what is wrong with him?”

“He has some physical injuries as you can see.  But I can’t get into his head to see why he is asleep.  He saps energy from me every time I try.”

The bald elf nods.  “It’s the same with his wounds.  Healing a new one opens up one of his old ones before the new one opens again.  The mark is stabilizing though, so at least that won’t kill him… for now.”

Cassandra eyes trace his chest.  Muscled and scarred.  Blood oozing slowly from his cuts.  Some she recognizes from their many sparring sessions.  She decides it is unavoidable.  She grabs a bottle of lyrium and rolls it between her hands.  He has come so far.  The physical toll of his withdrawals have started to become less.  She watches the mage in her tattered robes place her hands on a heavily bleeding wound on his side.  His blood drips and pools under him on the stone floor.  Cassandra knows he trusts this mage even if the Seeker didn’t know her name.

Despite the apostate’s words, the circle mage tries again to heal him.  The wound starts to close, but she stops when the scar on his lip begins to crack open.  She growls and removes her bloody hands from him.  “Damnit Cullen!  Let me heal you!”

Cassandra steps forward.  “Both of you move away.  But be ready.  He’s going to fall apart quickly once I’m done.”  The elves quickly stand and press against their backs against the wall.  “I’m sorry, my friend.”  She narrows her eyes at him, searching his veins for the source of his abilities.  She raises her hand and she hears the female elf whimper quietly.  His veins glow blue and he groans.  She closes her fist tightly and he screams.  The sleep he is under holds strong.  She burns away every ounce of lyrium in his blood.  She drops her hand and the female elf launches herself from the wall.  His blood drips rapidly now.  Whatever ability he had been using snaps and his body stops fighting to hold itself together.  Magic pours from the elf has she rapidly begins healing his wounds.

She doesn’t have enough magic to heal them fully.  Just enough to stop the bleeding and save his life.  The bald elf picks up his hand again to study what this has done to his work, seeming to care very little for the man it is attached to.

His wounds are inflamed but closed when the elf finishes her work.  She is obviously weak from the effort, but refuses the lyrium offered to her.  “He’s going to need that more than me.”

Cassandra nods knowing that her words are true.  His is already sweating from the loss and his eyes are moving rapidly behind his eyes.  The mage kneels above his head.  She places her hands on his temples and her magic surges.  She throws her head back and grits her teeth attempting to hold in the sounds of pain that threaten to escape her.  Cassandra discovers in this moment why he trusted this elf.  His breathing calms and his eyes still.  His body goes limp and his mouth falls open.

The elf slumps forward and rests her forehead on his, her magic appears to adhere her hands to his head.  Cassandra can feel that she is fading.  She has never seen this magic before.  Even the apostate is watching her with careful interest.

His unmarked hand twitches at his side.  Cassandra’s eyes lock onto it.  The female elf hisses.  “Give it to him now.”

The Seeker steps forward pulling the cork.  She hesitates.  This was a huge step back for him, but they were officially in uncharted territory.  She sighs.  “He can be mad at me later.”  She pours the cold blue liquid into his mouth.  Even asleep he tries to reject it.  “Maker bless him.”  She closes his mouth and holds it closed.  Still he doesn’t swallow.  She pitches his nose.  He struggles to breathe, but swallows it down.  She releases him.  “I’m sorry, my friend.”

The bald elf looks at her and studies her face.  “Why do you keep apologizing?  He’s a templar is he not?”

“He gave up that life when I recruited him.  If you know anything of templars, you know what the consequences of that choice are.”

“Yes.  But surely he has other ways of acquiring what he needs.”

“As I said, he gave up the life.”

The female elf growls.  “Stop talking.  Trying to focus.” They fall silent and return to watching her work.  Sweat and blood pour from her face.  Cassandra wishes she could see her expression. Her body is shaking from her effort and she is almost completely drained.  Cassandra hears a strained whisper slip through her teeth.  “Come on.  Come on.  Stupid fucking templar.  Do it.”

His hand moves again with a little more purpose.  Cassandra holds her breathe as she watches his hand slowly move up his chest.  He weaves his finger into the elf’s sticky ginger locks.  The elf sighs. “Come on.  Take over.”

Cassandra watches his lids flutter, a tale tell sign that he will be waking soon.  The elf sits up suddenly and gasp loudly.  She looks like she’s being electrocuted.  Her hands drop from his head and she falls backwards on the floor.  Her whole body twitches and then stills.  Cassandra rushes over to her and checks her pulse.  It’s weak but there.  Cassandra looks over to the bald elf.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Solas.”

“How’s the mark?”

“Stable, for now.”

“Good.  Take her in the other room.  Heal her wounds and find some lyrium for her.”

He nods.  “I have a lot of questions about what she just did.”

“As do it.”  He scoops the elf off the floor and leaves the room.

Cassandra returns her attention to the man on the floor.  She watches his eyes flutter and dance.  And then finally, after three days, he sits bolt upright.  Eyes wide open and gasping for air.  Cassandra places a hand on his chest.  “It’s me.  You are awake.”  He looks over at her.  His head throbs painfully and his body is sore.  He fights to take a few calming breaths.  “You need to know something.  But first, are you alright?”

His eyes search her face as he tries to calm himself.  “They were so… intense.  More real than ever.”  He blinks at her a few times trying to bring her face into focus.  “I… I’m fine.  What do I need to know?”

“What do you remember of the conclave?”

His brows knit together.  He could hear it in her voice.  Something is very wrong.  “What happened?”

“Answer me.”

He closes his eyes.  His mind is foggy.  When he wakes from a nightmare and his mind feels this way, he knows that she managed to block him from the Fade.  His eyes fly open and he looks around.  “Where is she?”

“She’s fine.  I have someone tending to her.  Please answer me.”  It was more of a command than a plea.  He returns to studying her face.

“I’m sorry.  It’s hard to focus after she does this to me.  Uh…  I remember setting up patrols around the temple and at Haven.  I remember receiving a message that the Divine wanted to see me… and that’s it.”

“That’s all?”

He nods.  “Did I go to see her?  I don’t imagine I would have kept her waiting.”  Cassandra has to hold in her sorrow. He didn’t know any more than she did about what happened.  “Cassandra.  What aren’t you telling me?  Is there more that I should remember?”

“I’m not sure how to begin.”

He watches a single tear roll down her face.  “Maker’s mercy.  Cassandra.  What…?”  He hisses as something jabs his hand.  Then without warning, he screams.  The mark fills the room with bright green light.  The electric fire shoots from his palm and all the way up his arm.   The pain is blinding.  He squeezes his fist shut and grips his wrist.  He stares down at his fist and the green light spilling from the spaces between his fingers.  “What is that?”

“We’re calling it the mark.”

The pain slowly fades and he opens his hand.  He inhales sharply as his eyes drink in the deep and bright green cut across his palm.  “But what _is_ it?”

“We don’t know what it is or even how it got there.  That’s not what I need tell you.”  He tears his eyes away from the anomaly on his hand and looks into her eyes.  He waits as patiently as he can.  He can see the pain in her eyes.  “There was an explosion.  At the conclave.”  His breath catches in his throat as memories of Kirkwall spill into his mind.

“How bad?”

“It is… the temple… is… destroyed.”

He looks down at his hand.  The sorrow he feels knowing how many people were at the conclave.  Knowing that if there was an explosion, then everyone was surely dead.  He looks up at her, “Are they all…?”

“Everyone.  Except you.”

He blinks at her.  A heavy weight settles in over his heart.  “What… happened?”

“We don’t know.”

Something in her voice tells him that this wasn’t the only bad news she had.  “Cassandra.  Out with it.”

She stands and motions to his armor piled in the corner.   “It is… better… if I show you.”

He pulls himself off of the floor.  His muscles ache.  He looks down at his bare chest and his heart drops into his stomach.  Bright red mounds litter his torso.  Some new, some old.  His lips are cracked and dry.  He licks them and feels the tender spot on his lip where his scar has opened again.  “Maker’s breath.  What the hell happened to me?”

“I wish I knew.  Get dressed.  We need to hurry.”

He looks at her.  “Hurry?”

She turns her back to him and steps into the hallway.  “Yes… there’s… just… come with me.”  He quickly dons his filthy armor.  He notes that his sword and shield are missing.  Pushing the thoughts aside, he follows her through the halls.  He can tell they are in some underground part of Haven’s Chantry.  The sleeping quarters of the sisters who live here most likely.  He looks into several doors as they walk brusquely down the hall.  People are crying and tending to the wounded.  The rooms have become a triage.  He stops abruptly when he sees a familiar elf laying alone on a bed.  Her ginger hair caked with drying blood.  Her skin is paler than usual.  In fact, she looks dead.  Cassandra turns to find out why he stopped.  

He steps in the room and she follows him.  He makes a silent prayer.  _Please let her be alive._   He presses his fingers at the pulse point on her neck.  He lets out a sigh of relief when he feels that her pulse is strong.  Cassandra leans in the doorway, watching him brush the matted hair behind her pointed ear.

“You never said how you knew her.”

“Short answer.  Kirkwall.”  He swallows hard and steps back from her.  “Lead the way.”

He turns to leave and the elf grabs his wrist.  He looks back at her.  She smiles weakly.  “Nice to see you vertical.”

“Nice to see your helping me hasn’t killed you yet.”

She smirks at him.  “I know my limits, Commander.”  She throws her legs off the bed.  He places his sore and glowing hand on her shoulder.  She closes her eyes and when she opens them again she makes eye contact with him.  Her eyes look tired and bloodshot.  He squeezes her shoulder.

“You need rest.”

She looks over at Cassandra.  “He hasn’t been outside yet?”  Cassandra shakes her head.  She shoves his hand off her shoulder.  “Then I’m coming with you.  That elf has already headed up to help.”

Cassandra nods.  “We should hurry.”

The elf brushes past him and he follows the women down the hall and up some stairs.  The mood in the main hall of the Chantry is panicked and somber.  Cassandra leads him out the main doors and he sees it instantly.  A gigantic green hole swirls in the sky.  Rocks are floating in the air.  The Temple is gone. "Maker.  What is that?”

“It’s called The Breach.  It’s a massive tear in the veil.  It grows larger with each passing hour.  And it’s not the only one, though it is the largest.  It was caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

He stares at it wide eyed.  His chest is tight and it makes him short of breath.  The elf touches his arm and he looks over at her.  She sighs.  “Is there nothing you remember?”

He stares into her eyes.  Even with blood caked on her face and hair, he still finds those emerald eyes calming.  He glances back at the Breach.  “I… I remember running towards something.  Or maybe away from something.  Then there was this woman…”

Cassandra turns to face him.  “A woman?”

He nods.  “Other than that… I’m sorry.  I wish I could…” 

The mark flares violently and the pain forces him to his knees.  He chokes down the roar of pain.  He is acutely aware of the people in the area staring at him.  Cassandra kneels beside him.  “Each time the Breach expands… the mark… spreads.  And it is killing you.”  He snarls at the pain and looks into her eyes.  “If we don’t act now, we fear the Breach may continue to grow and swallow the world.  This mark may be the key to stopping it, but there isn’t much time.”

He squeezes his fist around the mark and pushes himself off the ground.  He surges forward.  “Where are we going then?”

The elf pats his arm and scampers off.  His eyes follow her as she runs down the path leading out of town.  “Where is she going?”

“She’s one of the only mages left.  Before she started treating you, she was gathering apprentices and training them.  She’s going to rejoin them in the field with your men.”

He nods.  “Lead the way.”  She leads him through the town and all eyes follow him.  He gets the distinct feeling that they are blaming him.  “Do they think I did this?”

Casandra doesn’t stop walking.  “Yes.  Most of them have decided that since you are the only survivor that you had a hand in this, but Leliana and I know better.  This is not something you would do.  Even on your darkest day, you would never…  They mourn for Divine Justinia and for the others we lost.  No one was protected from this.  Mages, templars, clerics, and many others.  This is a great loss and they lash out because they don’t have answers.  If we had something, anything, to give them, they may change their minds.”

“What could we possibly give them that could ease this pain?”

“We have a theory and it needs to be tested, but if it works, this could restore a little hope.”

He walks a little faster.  “We’re going up, I assume?”

She nods and they jog up the path together.  They walk out the gates that secures the path from the valley to the temple.  It opens letting them through.  As they close behind him, he takes in the view of the battered men and women on the stone bridge.  When the soldiers see him walking along the bridge, they let out a cheer.  He nods to them as he passes.  They salute regardless of their physical injuries.  Men who are laying on the ground even salute.  Their arms pulled to rest their fists on their chests.  It makes him happy to know that his men hadn’t lost faith in him.

Yet despite this, the amount of bodies on the bridge make his heart sink.  It wasn’t just people inside the temple, but outside it as well.  Rubble and destruction litter their path as the pass through the next gate.  More soldiers are seen holding their positions behind over turned wagons and makeshift barricades.  They get halfway to the next gate when his mark flares.  He gasp and falls to his knees.  He clutches his fist to his chest and squeezes his eyes closed.  Cassandra looks at the Breach and down at him.  “They are coming faster now.  We’ve noticed that the wider it gets, the more rifts appear.  Which means the more demons we face.”

He pushes himself off the ground while the mark is still flaring.  “Then we must press on.”  Something in him, something familiar and nearly forgotten, makes itself known.  His veins hum and his ears ring.  “No.  No.  No.”  He covers his ears and growls.  “Fuck!”  The pain in his hand subsides and he paces in the snow.  Cassandra nibbles her lip and folds her arms.  “No!  Who did this?!”

“I did.”

He spins and faces her.  “Why?!  You know that I…”

“Of course I know.  But I had to.  You were dying.  You were fighting off all attempts to heal you.  I will not apologize for saving your life.  I’m just sorry we had to resort to that.”

His anger cools.  “Then I will just have to start over.  In the meantime…”  He tries to silence the magic he can feel in his palm but nothing happens.  He curses and charges up the path.  He stops again and turns on her.  “How did I survive the blast if I was there?”

“They said you… your men said you stepped out of a rift and fell unconscious.  They said there was a woman behind you, but no one knows who she was.”

He sighs and they continue up the path.  This is all too much.  He thought his life was well on its way to being normal and happy.  Leading a life away from these mage and templar horrors.  Yet here he was rushing headlong into battle against demons and some magic strong enough to rip a hole in the sky.  And he was at the center of it.  Both during the explosion that should have killed him and now with this thing on his hand. 

He is too lost in thought to see the rock falling from the sky until Cassandra stops him and then the bridge buckles under their feet.  They fall and tumble to the frozen river below.  They groan and push off the ground.  She looks over at him.  “Are you alright?”

“Fine.  You?”  A rock explodes near them and a pool of green light oozes in the spot.  She draws her sword and shield.  He reaches for his and it isn’t there.

“Damnit!”

He watches her charge forward.  He growls and looks around.  He sees a sword on the ground, but no shield.  He snatches it up as another green pool forms.  From then on, they fight demons up the river.  As they travel, they find more soldiers and bodies.  They vault over stones that used to be a part of the exterior wall that surrounded the temple.  They waste no time jumping into the fight as demons are swarming a group of soldiers.  With the demons defeated, Solas grabs his wrist.  “Quickly, before more come through!”  He points Cullen’s marked hand at the rift and it flares painfully.  He grits his teeth as magic shoots from the mark and connects to the rift in a crackling arc.  He chokes down the old fears that threaten to surface.  A jolt knocks his hand away and the rift closes.

He rubs his palm and sneers at the elf.  “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing.  Whatever magic opened the Breach also placed the mark upon your hand.  I theorized it might be able to close the rifts and it appears I was correct.”

Cassandra comes to stand beside Cullen.  “Will it close the Breach itself?”

“Possibly.”

Cullen hears a familiar chuckle.  “And here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.”  Cullen can’t help the smirk that crosses his face.  He turns to the dwarf as he cleans his crossbow.  “So.  We headed to the valley or not?”

Cassandra shakes her head violently.  “Absolutely not.  I appreciate you jumping in to help, Varric, but…”

“Have you been to the valley, Seeker?  Your men aren’t in control anymore.  You need me.”

Cullen nods.  “Varric is a capable fighter, Cassandra.  If it’s as bad as he says, we need all the help we can get.”  Cassandra grumbles and turns away.  Cullen eyes the elf.  “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Not formally, no.  My name is Solas.  I’m pleased to see that you are alive.”

“He means he kept that thing from killing you while you slept.”

Cullen holds out his hand.  Solas shakes it.  “Thank you.  I’m Commander Cullen Rutherford.”

“Thank me if we manage the close the Breach.  Without killing you in the process.”  He turns his attention to Cassandra and walks over to her.  Varric stands next to Cullen. 

“How you holding up, Curly?”

He chuckles.  “You’ve come up with a nickname for me then?”

Varric shrugs.  “You were a part of the team by the end.  Felt like the thing to do.  Have you seen her yet?”

Cullen nods.  “She should be up ahead.  I’m surprised you didn’t see her come past.”

“You know that elf is sneaky for a mage.  Not to mention I was ass deep in demons.”

Cullen sighs.  “Why is it that something crazy always happens to us?”

“I often ask myself that very question.”

Cassandra looks over her shoulder.  “We need to get to the forward camp.”  They head down the path.  They fight more demons as they go.  The mark is distracting.  It pulses and twitches around demons.  It flares violently when around rifts.  This sends shooting pains up his arm when the Breach grows.  His muscles burn in his arm though he has barely used it.  He has managed to not get hit, but he can still feel that one of his wounds has opened again and is slowly bleeding.  He grunts and groans as he fights.  Desperately missing his own sword and shield.  The one in his hand is brittle and dull.  He is forced to use it as more of a club than a sword.

When they finally reach the gates that lead to another bridge, Cullen sees yet another rift.  His men are under attack.  He surges forward and starts to develop a new fighting tactic.  As the demons swarm, he points his marked hand at the rift.  It arcs and then surges.  The rift stabilizes, but sends a shockwave that stuns the demons.  They make quick work of them after that.  He makes a mental note of the result for later use.

They pass through the gates and a few men on the bridge smile at him as he passes.  Then he spots a familiar face.  Cassandra heads to speak to Leliana who is arguing with Roderick, a chancellor Cullen had always been respectful to despite how much he dislikes him. He seems red in the face now.  He decides to let her handle it.  He claps the man on the back.  He turns to face him and nearly hugs Cullen around the neck.  He stops himself and salutes.  “It’s good to see you, Commander.”

“How are the men?”

“We’re fighting hard, sir.  Your leadership has been missed.  But we’re doing the best we can.  I did find something that I think you’ll want back.”  He turns and shuffles through a pile of weapons.  He comes back with holding Cullen’s sword and shield.  “They’re a little worse for wear, but they’ve held up surprisingly well.  We haven’t been able to recover much from inside the temple, so consider yourself lucky.”

Cullen slides his hands into his pocket.  Sure enough, his old coin in still in there.  He sighs.  “Yeah.  Lucky.”

The man places his hand on his shoulder.  “I won’t ask about… it’s all too much isn’t it?”

“I appreciate you stepping in, Rylen.  I just wish I knew what happened.  I can’t remember anything.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.  I’m sure whatever it was you survived is fucking horrible.  Do you have commands for us, sir?”

He rubs his neck.  “Just… be careful.  We’ve lost too many as it is.  Go with caution.  If you see a rift, send word, and stir clear.  This thing on my hand can close them, they keep coming out of it if it’s not closed.  So, just maintain a perimeter and only engage if you have to.  I’m headed further in to see what we can do about the big one.”

“Maker guide you and Andraste protect you, Commander.”

“You as well.”  He doesn’t wait for Cassandra to tell him what to do.  Varric and Solas rush up behind him.

“Leaving without us, Curly?”

“She can argue with that man until she’s blue in the face, but I know what needs to be done and I’m not waiting around here as my men fight and die.”

His eyes lock with Cassandra’s.  She nods, says something angrily to Roderick.  She pats Leliana on the arm and runs towards him.  “We have two options.  We lost contact with a group of Leliana’s people.  It’s safer but might take longer.”

He smirks, “You know I’ve always preferred a direct approach.”

She motions forward. “Lead the way then.”

They fight their way further up the mountain.  The ruins of the temple begin to loom over them.  They hear fighting and screams coming from further ahead.  More rocks are falling from the Breach and his men are barely holding on.  They surge forward, doing the best they can to save as many men as they can. 

They run into a large rift blocking their path.  Demons are everywhere and the respawn rapidly.  He uses his mark more often in the hopes that by stunning these demons over and over, they might gain the upper hand.  It’s a hard battle but they manage.   Once the rift is closed, they stop to take a breather.  Cullen leans against a wall and places his hand on his side.  More of his wounds have opened, he’s sure of it.  His hand is wet and red when he pulls it away.  He groans and closes his eyes.  He wipes his hand on his pants.  He pulls his gloves out of his pocket and puts them on.  The mark still shines brightly through the thick leather.

He flexes his fist a few times.  He is sore all over, but his hand hurts the worst.  It flares as he looks at it and he can’t clamp down on the cry of pain fast enough.  He bends forward with his fist closed and presses it into his stomach.  He feels a hand on the back of his head.  He looks over through half closed eyes.  His heart skips a beat when he sees her.  It always does.  She is covered in blood and he isn’t sure if it’s all hers or if some of it belongs to the demons they’ve been fighting or the people she’s been healing.

“Still hurts then?”  He nods.  Her eyes scan him as he straightens.  “Maker.  You’re bleeding.”  Her hands press into his side and he winces.  “Sorry.”  Her magic tingles as it attempts to heal him through his armor.  “Remind me to properly tend to these later.”

“You worry about me enough.  I’m sure you won’t forget.”

He watches a small grin pull at the corner of her lips.  “Yes, well.  I do owe you.”

“You owe me nothing.  I’ve told you that multiple times.”

She looks up at him.  “Well, be that as it may, I’m pretty sure we will all owe you after today.”

“As Solas said earlier, thank me after I close the Breach.”

She nibbles on her lip and returns her attention to his wounds.  “I can’t see where else you are bleeding.  Are there any places that need my attention?”

He places his hand over hers as she heals his side.  “I’ll be fine.”

“You say that, but you haven’t seen what lies ahead.  It’s… horrific.  I think I might have nightmares after all this.”

He lifts her chin to make her look at him.  There are bags under her eyes and she is still pale.  “When is that last time you slept?”

“Three days.  There hasn’t exactly been time to.  As you can imagine.  Most of that time was spent making sure you didn’t bleed out.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“Yes.  I did.  Now, enough bitching.  Where else does it hurt?”  He points out a few places and she works on healing them.  He watches her work in silence.  She removes his glove and examines is left hand.  “It looks irritated.”  Her cool fingers touch the edges of the mark.  He hisses.  “I’m sorry.  I could try to…”

“Best not.  We don’t know anything about this… magic and I don’t want to risk messing with it.  Not with the Breach still growing and spitting out demons.”  She puts his glove back on and sighs.  “Something wrong?”

She shakes her head.  “How is it that we always end up like this?”

“Varric and I were just having that conversation.”

She brushes her fingers down the scar on his lips.  “It’s bleeding.  Want me to…?”

He nods.  “How did it even open again?”

Her magic tingles his face as she heals him.  “I have no idea.  It kept happening.  I’d try to heal a new wound and an old one would open.  It’s like your body was rejecting the magic and forcing it out through…”

“Any wound that had been healed by magic?”

She nods.  “When this one started to open, I stopped and we had to resort to desperate measures.  You would have bled out entirely if we hadn’t.”

“And that’s why…?”

She drops her hand and looks back at Cassandra.  “Yes.”

He pulls her chin back towards him.  He wanted to be mad at them.  He wanted to scream and storm and rage, but seeing the guilt on both of their faces cooled him.  They obviously didn’t want to force lyrium upon him, but if he was too weak to disconnect her magic from his mind, she would likely be dead.  Or at least that’s how he understood her power.  Both connecting and disconnecting with his mind was always painful for her, but a fully powered templar would have been much worse since his abilities were enhanced now.  He didn’t realize he was just staring at her, his thumb trailing along her jaw until she cleared her throat.  He drops his hand and rubs his neck.  “I… uh… I forgive you.”

She sighs and closes her eyes.  “Thank you.  You should probably…”

“Yeah.  The Breach.  Right.”  Neither of them move.  She opens her eyes and finds he is still there.

“Something on your mind, Sir Rutherford?”

He blinks at her a few times.  He had a lot of things to say.  Things he’s never told her, but with her familiarity with his mind, he figured she knew already.  It was a boundary he would never cross with her despite his desires to do otherwise.  Desires which he usually attributed to the demon who tortured him.  Yet when she looks at him like she is now, concerned and empathetic, he always felt that urge pull at his insides.  She was his friend.  His best friend.  The nature of their friendship made her know things about him he could never express about his past.  She has seen him at his worst and has watched him struggle to become a better person.  He always felt like a teenager around her, especially when she holds his eye contact like this.  Her large emerald eyes are expressive.  Right now, he sees concern and fear in equal measure.  He hoped she’d come to him with her fears as he had come to her.  Though it never felt like a two way street in that regard.  She never opened up to him about her own concerns.  She clears her throat again.  He blushes and grins nervously.

“Cullen?  Did you hit your head or something?”

He chuckles.  “No.  You know how I get after…”

She nods.  “Right.  Well, gone on.  Cassandra is waiting.”  He nods and pushes off the wall.  She takes a few steps back to counter his movement.

“Don’t forget to heal yourself.”

She chuckles.  “Oh.  The wet stuff isn’t mine.”

“Good to know.”

He walks around her and she stops him.  “If…” She looks away from him and towards his men.  “If you want to talk about… anything… you know where I’ll be.”  His heart pounds under the hand she placed on his chest.  He thanks the Maker for breastplates.  He presses her hand into the metal with his and she turns her head back to him.  Her eyes shift between their hands and his face.  The tips of her ears redden and his scarred lip twitches.  She slides her hand from his grasp.  “I should… go… heal… someone.”  She scampers off towards his men and helps an injured man hobble away.  He runs a hand through his hair and takes a few calming breathes.  This was far from the time to be distracted.  Even so, he takes one last look at her before rushing forward to meet up with Cassandra.


	2. The Herald of Andraste

She sits beside him on his bed and watches his eyes move behind his eyes.  Stabilizing the Breach had almost killed him.  It was things like this that made her question the world around her.  His supposed friends had almost allowed him to die.  She supposed she was guilty of that too, but how was she to know.  That bald elf suspected, but never told her as much.  So much for working as a team.  He shakes even in his sleep.  The mark is still clearly bothering him.  Add that to the pain from his injuries, which are being abnormally slow to heal, and the new supply of horrors for his mind to torture him with, then you have one restless night after another. 

Even with his steady incline of heath, she worries what becomes of her if he doesn’t pull through.  No one knows her.  She’s just a circle mage with some unusual and handy skills.  Skills that made Meredith want to make her tranquil every other day.  Granted, those skills have hardly been explored save for the things she has done for him behind closed doors.  She’s never thought of him as anything more than a protector or friend, and she’s forever be grateful for the countless times he has saved her life.  She has had few opportunities to do the same, but now it seems it’s her turn to keep him alive.

Their lives are a mirror image in a way.  He is a former templar who suffered at the hands of mages and demons.  A man who took his anger and fear out on every mage he saw.  Which for a time included her, but there was always a line for how far he’d go.  She is a former circle mage, born and raised inside their walls.  She suffered at the hands of countless templars and even some mages.  Being an empath and a dreamer made life in the circle hard for her.  Threats of tranquility were all too common in her life.  Not to mention they have both been tortured.  She knew all about the horrors of his life, a side effect of her using her empathic abilities to help him sleep, yet she would never share hers with him.  He didn’t mind adding that to his guilt, because despite their history, she valued their friendship and didn’t want to put that at risk.

But what did that matter now if he died?  She had nothing and no one.  He was the first person who showed her any kindness, besides the other mages in the circle, most of whom were dead thanks to Knight-Commander Meredith.  She pulls one leg to her chest and swings her other leg back and forth, her toes brushing the ground.  No one knew she was in here.  The orders were to leave him alone, unless you were an approved healer.  Since no one knew her, she was not an approved healer.  Even though she had papers that told who she was, where she came from, the status of her harrowing, as well as important details regarding her magic.  All mages in Kirkwall were required to carry those papers since Meredith took over.  Maker help you if you didn’t have them when a templar asked or if you left the circle without having the accompanying paperwork.

A chill runs up her spine at the thought of the first time she had discovered that rule.  It felt like yesterday when she was out gathering herbs on the Wounded Coast at the request of a templar only to be punished when she got back for not having papers.  A rule wasn’t in effect when she left just hours earlier.  She closes her eyes and tries to push the memory from her mind.  She takes a few stuttering breaths before opening them again.

She wished she was strong enough to tell him the things she had to endure, but she refused to put her suffering on him.  She is well versed in the suffering of others and was better equipped to handle it.  Her own pain was another story and one she was not going to get into.  Being stuck with Meredith since she was 5 years olds was all anyone really needed to know.

She rests her chin her knee as she watches over her friend.  She always loved being up in the middle of the night.  Being able to see things only elves could see.  The light coming in through the window in the cabin is sickly and green due to the Breach.  It made the night not as dark and it made the scars, both new and old, stand out more than normal.  The healers have been taking it slow, which meant they wanted him to heal on his own.  He could say he didn’t care about his scars all day long, but she has been in his mind and she knows better.  She summons magic into her fingers and gently caresses the red lines on his body.  She sighs when the old scar doesn’t return its original state.  She had hoped that the wounds being opened again would make the scars fainter when healed.  But the result was quite the opposite, they looked worse than before.  Deeper, shinier, wider.  He wasn’t vain, but she knew these scars were constant reminders of the things he had experienced.  She could sympathize.

The templars were always careful not to hurt her where her robes wouldn’t cover her.  Her face was free of any lasting injuries.  The same could be said of her neck and hands.  Every scar had a story that she could recall with pin point accuracy.  If pressed, she imagined she could even tell someone the date and time.  She shakes her head.  Seeing him like this must be stirring these things up.  Maybe she should go.  Maybe she needed to smack that smug grin off that bald elf’s face for subjecting him to this when she had barely managed to get him awake in the first place.

She stands and climbs to the window that faces the back of the small cabin.  She sits on the window sill and looks back at him.  “Sleep well, my friend.”  She slides out the window drops onto the ground.  She walks along the back the cabin and that of a few others before returning to the path.  She nods to the guards standing outside his door.  They had no idea she was in there.  She’d have to bring that up to Cassandra once the guest restriction had been lifted. 

Varric waves at her as she approaches the gate leading out of the village.  She has no reason not to trust him, but someone being born and raised in Kirkwall always gives her pause.  She walks to him and he motions to the fire.  “I’m sure you must be freezing.”

“Well, you know what they say about people born in Ferelden.”

He laughs.  “Yes, well, you were raised in Kirkwall.”

“You know full well being raised in The Gallows is not the same as being raised in Kirkwall.”

“True.  Care to join me for a drink?”

She shrugs.  “I suppose.  You should know I’m fairly new to this whole drinking thing.”

“No time like the present.”  He leads her to the tavern, which is nearly empty at this hour.  He orders two ales and sits down.  She sits across from him and he slides her the tankard.  She takes a small sip and sets it down.  “So.  How is he?”

She smirks.  “Getting better.”

“Think he’ll wake soon?”

“No idea.  Stabilizing the Breach took a lot out of him.  It’ll be days yet, I think.  But he’s tough.  If he’s not dead yet, he’ll come around.”

He takes a drink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.  “What’s the deal with you two anyway?”

“The deal?  There is no deal.  We’re friends.  Nothing more.”

“That display at the temple tells a different story.”

She chuckles.  “He might have feelings for me.  I wouldn’t know.”

“Bullshit.  I’ve heard of some of the things you can do.  There’s no way you don’t know.”

She smirks.  “True.  But they are not for me to tell.  His thoughts are his own.  Should he care to express them.  That is his business.  Furthermore, how do you know what I can do?  It’s not like you had sources in the circle.”

“Didn’t I?  If you’ll recall, Hawke’s sister was in the circle for a while.”

“Ah yes.  Bethany.  I didn’t have many interactions with her, but mages love to talk when templars aren’t around to hear.  Well, other mages.  I kept to myself mostly.  Mages with friends were seen as a threat.”

“Sounds like you have trust issues to me.”

“Can you blame me?”

“It wasn’t a judgment.  Just an observation.”  They both drink and he scratches his chest.  “Hawke said she met you once.”

“Did she?  I think I would have remembered that.”

“You were in Cullen’s office.”

She takes a drink from her tankard.  “Oh.  That.”

“Care to share your side or should I just take her word for it?”

“That was before Bethany’s time in the circle.  What does it matter?”

“I just wanted to know if what she said was true.”

She downs the rest of her drink.  “Unless I know what she said, then how am I to dispute it.”  She pushes back from the table.  “Thanks for the drink.  I should really get going.”

“You could stay for another.  I’m buying.”

“Do you plan on asking me about that day?”

“I’ll tell you want Hawke thinks was going on and you can correct or confirm it.  Sound good?”

She scoots her chair back in and sighs.  “Fine.” 

He turns to wave at Flissa and she brings him two more ales.  He pushes one towards her.  “So, Hawke said she went to talk to Cullen about some issue that doesn’t matter for this tale.  She never knocks.  And I do mean never.  She just barges in everywhere she goes.  Even picking locks if she needs to.  So, she barges into Cullen’s office and she said the two of you were in a very compromising position.”

She shakes her head.  “That could mean any number of things.”

“She said he had you pressed up against a wall.”

She closes eyes and takes a deep breath.  Her heart rate increases as she thinks about that day.   “It probably wasn’t what she thought it was.”

“She said it looked like the two of you were in the process of very aggressive looking sex.”

“That’s not what happened.”

He takes a drink and motions for her to continue.  She stares into her cup.  “Oh, come on.  Correct or confirm, remember?”

“If I’m not mistaken, Hawke had just moving to Kirkwall, yes?”  He nods.  “She was looking for odd jobs and a templar happened to have one, which led her to his office?”  Again he nods.  “Well, it was early days for Cullen too.  He had just been made Knight-Captain.  And I… I was being accused of being possessed by a demon.”

“Hold on.  How does anything that looks like sex be… he didn’t…?”

“No.  No.  Nothing like that.  He might have had trust and anger issues towards mages, but he still had a code.  There were lines he wouldn’t cross and that was one on them.  I feel I should also point out I was just a kid them.  No more than 15.”

“What was he doing then?”

She rubs the front of her neck.  The problem with being an empath is that memories are tied to emotional and physical pain.  For an empath, that means being able to feel that pain all over again.  “He was… interrogating me.  I had my harrowing later that day just to prove I could resist a demon’s call.”

Varric traces the lip of his tankard with his finger.  “So, correct me if I get this wrong.  Hawke barged in on Cullen interrogating you about being possessed by pressing you against a wall and being all up in your personal space.”

“She must have left out the part where he spoke to her while he held me against that wall by wrapping his hand around my neck.”

“No, she mentioned it.  She just assumed it was some sort of kink thing.”

She shakes her head.  “Nope.  Cullen and I have never had sex.  We’ve never even come close.”

He smirks.  “Would you like it if he tried?”

“Honestly?  I don’t know.  It’s taken me a long time to stop seeing him as a templar.”

“I’ve heard stories.  Some mages like being taken by…”

She pushes back from the table.  “I’m sorry, Varric.  I need to go.”

“You haven’t even finished your drink.”  She grabs up her tankard and chugs it down.

“There.  Finished.  I’ll see you later.”  She turns and rushes out of the tavern.  Her head swims as the alcohol begins to hit her system.  She feels manic after the conversation with Varric and the memories it dragged to the surface.  He had no way of knowing, of course, so she didn’t blame him.  She blamed herself for allowing herself to even engage in a topic with such dangerous territory.  As she stands outside the tavern, it dawns on her that she was never assigned a place to sleep.  She rubs her face with both hands and groans.  She needs sleep.  It’s been days.  She needs to escape into the Fade.  Get some distance from her own mind.  At this hour though, she has no one to ask.

So, she wanders out the front gates.  She looks around.  She sees the empty stables.  That would be a decent place.  The hay would keep her warm, and the roof would keep the rain or snow off of her.  Then she sees his tent.  Patrols move through the lines of tents.  He wouldn’t be needing it for a while.  She knew it was off limits.  There was sensitive information in there, but if she didn’t read any of the messages what was the harm.  It was just a place to sleep.  She crouches down and sneaks past the soldiers.  She’s going to have to let someone know about how easy it was to sneak into the Commander’s tent.  They were too spaced out and provided the perfect window for her to slip around the front and duck into the tent unnoticed.  She ties the flaps together so that she’ll have at least some warning that someone was trying to get in.  His cot calls her name.  She doesn’t so much as glance at the desk.  She yanks back his blanket and plops down on the cot.  It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but she’s definitely slept on worse.  She curls into a ball and completely buries herself in the blanket.  She really needed to shower.  Blood and ichor is all over her.  Her robes are torn to bits and she’s honestly surprised they haven’t fallen to pieces.

She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing.  Going to sleep had always been the one time she was able to find escape from the hell she used to live in.  Yet, she was only a heavy sleeper when she was in the Fade.  If she didn’t manage to get there before the patrol walked by again, she’d never make it.  Fortunately, her exhaustion hits her like a tidal wave and she passes out right away.

***

She sleeps through most of the day.  It’s midday when she finally wakes.  She peeks out from under the blanket to find that tent flaps have been untied.  Her heart jumps into her throat.  She sits up and a slip of paper falls onto the floor.  She picks it up and reads:

_It occurs to me that I never learned your name._

_This needs to be remedied._

_Come to the Chantry when you wake._

_We will find you a proper place to sleep._

_Sincerely,_

_Josephine Montilyet_

She folds the paper and sticks it in her pocket.  The sounds of clashing metal hits her ears.  There would be no sneaking out, but she imagines everyone knows now anyway.  She climbs off the cot and makes it nice and tidy just the way he likes it.  The thought of him makes her wonder if he’s improved at all.  She peeks her head out the tent.  No one seems to be looking in her direction.  With a shrug, she walks out of his tent.  She rounds the corner as to not walk through the sparring men and nearly gets smacked by Cassandra’s practice sword.  She hits the ground as she has so many times in the past.  Her face in the snow and her hands pressed against the ground.

“Maker’s breath!  Are you alright?  I nearly took your head off!”

She pushes herself off the ground and shakes the snow off.  “I’m fine.  I’m the one who was sneaking around.”

“Why were you sneaking around?”

She toes the ground.  “I… uh… didn’t have a place to sleep last night and since Cullen is sleeping in that cabin for now, I thought I’d… it was stupid.  I should have just slept in the stables.”

Cassandra leans her sword against the practice dummy.  “How long have you been here?”

“I arrived with Cullen.  So a few days.  Maybe longer.”

“And no one ever assigned you a place to sleep.”  She shakes her head.  “Then where were you sleeping before the Breach?”

“A bedroll on the floor of his tent.  Until it became his office too.  Then I was sleeping on a bedroll in the woods.”

“Come with me.  We’ll get you cleaned up and have Josephine find you a proper place to sleep.”

She puts her hands in her pockets.  “Thanks.”

Cassandra looks her up and down.  “Aren’t you cold?  Where is your cloak?”

“I don’t have one.  I’ve never had a need for one until now.  The Gallows are surprisingly warm.”  A wave of pity washes over her as Cassandra pats her arm.  “I don’t need you to pity me, Cassandra.  I’m not a street urchin.  I just wasn’t expecting to travel.”

Cassandra drops her hand, “How did you… never mind.  It’s this way.”  They walk side by side in silence.  Cassandra stops in front of the path that leads to the door to his cabin.  “I wonder how he’s doing today.”

“I was wondering the same thing, but I’m not allowed inside.  Your orders apparently.”

Cassandra nods.  “I am sorry about that.  I know you are his friend, but things have changed.  He is… important and we can’t take chances.  I hope you understand.”

“I suppose so.  But he is my only friend.  You can’t blame me for worrying.”

“No.  I can’t.”  She sighs.  “Let’s get you cleaned up and situated and then we talk about visiting him.”

“You don’t trust me, do you?”

Cassandra looks her dead in the eye.  “No.  I don’t.”  They continue up the path. 

Cassandra leads her to Josephine’s office inside the Chantry.  The woman starts at her grizzly appearance.  “Maker!  Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.  Just dirty.”

Cassandra ushers her forward.  “She needs a place to stay.  And a bath.”

“Do you need clothes?”

She shakes her head.  “I have a few spare robes among my things.”

“Where are your things?”  Josephine flips through some papers.  “I don’t see that anything was delivered from the circle.”

“In the woods.  Where I’ve been sleeping.”

Josephine looks up at her.  “Why were you sleeping in the woods?”

“Sleeping arrangements were never made”

Josephine picks up her board and starts scribbling some notes.  “What is your name?  And how did you come to be here?”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the worn piece of paper.  She holds it out to her.  “Everything you need to know is there.”

Josephine unfolds the paper carefully and reads it.  She looks up at her.  “I’ve never seen one of these in person.  I’ve heard tales of the mages in Kirkwall being forced to register and carry these around.”  She begins writing on her paper.  “I assume you want to be housed with your fellow mages?”

“If that’s where I need to go, then I will.”

It was an odd response.  Cassandra and Josephine exchange looks.  Cassandra holds out her hand.  “May I see that?”

Josephine hands her the identification form.  Cassandra reads.  “Your name is Alyssa.  No surname?”

“I was born in a circle.  So no.”

“From Kirkwall.  You passed your harrowing at 15.  The attending templar… Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford.  You are a Dreamer and an… what is an empath?”

“Someone who can sense and effect the emotions of others.  Though that might be over simplifying it.  That is the easiest way to answer that.”

Cassandra returns her attention to the paper.  “What are these marks?”

“You would have to ask Cullen when he wakes.  Mages were not privy to templar codes.”

Cassandra folds the paper and hands it back to her.  “And you have never been outside the circle?”

Alyssa takes it and puts it back in her pocket.  “Not until Cullen decided he needed me to come with him from Kirkwall.  And maybe for a little while I was a baby, but I don’t recall.”

Cassandra looks over at Josephine.  “Put her with the other displaced circle mages for now.”

She nods and scribbles something on her paper.  “I’ll arrange everything.  And I’ll have someone show you to where you can bathe.”

“I should probably go fetch my things before that.  Otherwise, I’ll be changing back into dirty robes.”  Josephine nods.  The two women begin talking amongst themselves and Alyssa just stands there.  “Am I dismissed?”  They look at her.

Cassandra nods.  “Yes.  You may go.  One of Josephine’s people will meet you at the main Chantry doors when you return.”  Alyssa nods and leaves the room.  She can feel herself falling into old patterns.  Patterns that Cullen has been trying to break her of since they left Kirkwall.  She is free.  She didn’t have to bow and submit to men and women in armor anymore.  Yet old habits die hard when it is all you’ve ever known.

She walks through Haven not making eye contact with anyone as she heads out to the woods to get her bag.  She must look awful, but she’s not the only one who hasn’t cleaned up from the fight yet.  Rylen, still spattered with demon ichor, stops her as she passes the camp.  “Hey!  You’re the Commander’s friend, right?”

She nods.  “I am.”

“Have you seen him?  They won’t let me in and I’m his second-in-command.”

She looks around to make sure there aren’t any extra ears.  “They won’t let me in either, but yes.  I have seen him.  His injuries are healing, slowly.  He did not look well, but he’s alive.”

Rylen exhales in a huff.  “That’s something at least.  If he’s alive, then he’s not going down without a fight.”

Rylen makes Alyssa nervous.  All templars do, but especially those who still consider themselves a part of the Order.  She didn’t know this man well, but she tried her hardest to trust him when Cullen said he was a good man.  It helped that Rylen was from Starkhaven and not Kirkwall.  She had heard that templars from Starkhaven didn’t treat mages like slaves or prisoners or monsters.

She nods in response to his words.  He smiles at her slightly.  Another thing that makes her uneasy in regards to templars.  She never knew what that smile could mean until they touched her.  Her empathic abilities are limited to touch, at least when she has control over them.  Which is a blessing.  She might have killed herself had it been on all the time.  The despair and pain in The Gallows would have been unbearable.  Worse yet, she might have been more open to possession because she’d be so open to the emotions around her.  “I’ll let you go about your business.  If you find out anything more about his condition, will you let me know?”

She nods.  “Of course.”

He pats her arm and she instantly relaxes.  He is being kind.  He had seen her in The Gallows when he came with his men to assist with relief efforts.  She felt his recognition and his gratitude for her blatant breaking of the rules.  His smile had been genuine.  He understood her reservations even if she didn’t openly express them.  He walks away to return to his duties.  She shakes her head to clear her mind.  She found that she had to keep reminding herself that she wasn’t in Kirkwall anymore.  She was free to be her true self without fear of being made tranquil for it.  She heads off into the woods to gather her things.

***

Days later, Cullen finally wakes.  For the first time in a long time, he wakes without pain in his skull.  He startles an elf who has just entered the cabin carrying a box, which she drops.  She rambles her apologies and he barely hears her.

“Where am I?”

“Haven, your Worship.”

“Your worship?”

She falls to the floor in supplication.  He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes as she begs for forgiveness.  She jumps off the floor and mutters something about telling Cassandra at once.  She flees from the cabin.

He throws the blanket off and presses his bare feet onto the stone floor.  He stretches his arm over his head and then hisses as his body protests.  He feels more rested than he has in a long time, yet his injuries still cause him pain.  He looks down at his chest and examines his wounds.  His old scars, the ones that had reopened are healed, but look worse than before.  His new wounds are scarring over, but they aren’t completely healed yet.  Then the mark flares.  The pain isn’t as strong as it was before, but it still hurts.  He closes his fist and growls.  He turns to look out the window over his bed.  The Breach was still there.  It didn’t work.  Though it looks calmer so that was a plus.

He stands and inspects the forgotten box.  It contains clothes.  His clothes.  He wishes it was his armor, but it was better than nothing.  He quickly dresses in the cream colored shirt, brown pants, and brown leather boots.  He laces the shirt up to his neck.  He notes that the box doesn’t contain a cloak or any warm clothes.  Is he expected to stay inside all day?  There is one other item in the box, but he chooses to ignore it.  His rehab begins today.  He moves the box into the corner and heads out the door.  People stop in the streets to stare at him when the door opens.

His soldiers salute as he passes, but it’s the normal people, the villagers, bowing to him that makes him feel uneasy.  He walks a little faster in search of Cassandra or Leliana.  He imagines they are in the Chantry, so he heads that way.  He picks up speed as more people start to gather in the streets.  The Chantry doors are open when he gets there and Leliana is waiting for him.

“Good to see you awake.  You had us worried for a while there.”

“Was it that bad?”

She nods.  “Come, we need to speak away from prying ears.”

He looks over his shoulder.  “And eyes.”

She chuckles.  “You may as well get used to that.  We have a lot to talk about.” He follows her through the Chantry.  Villagers were one thing, but when several sisters bow as he passes, his throat tightens.  More than a few of them glare, but that’s not unusual.  As they approach the doors at the end of the hall, he can hear Roderick and Cassandra going at it.  He has a feeling he might be the subject, so he doesn’t even pause before throwing the door open.  They fall silent and stare at him.  “Is there a problem, Chancellor?”

The red faced man stands a little straighter.  “That is none of your concern.”

Cassandra opens her mouth and Cullen holds up his marked hand.  Completely forgetting for a moment that it’s there.  She closes her mouth and he clasps his hands behind his back.  “Chancellor Roderick.  You and I have never seen eye to eye.  But we are both faithful men.  Surely we can set aside our differences for the good of the people.”

“This must please you greatly, templar.  The fate of the world being placed in _your_ hands.”

He looks over at Cassandra and her eyes shift to the book on the table.  He nods knowing what it means.  “Former templar.  And it is not just my hands.  Lady Montilyet, Seeker Pentaghast, and Sister Leliana will be involved every step of the way.  This is a team effort.  We’ve seen the Breach and the potential havoc it can cause.  We can’t remain idle.”

“That should be for a new Divine to decide.”

“And until we have one, we shall carry on as the late Divine Justinia V instructed her most loyal subjects to do.”  He grumbles and storms out the room.  Cassandra and Leliana exchange looks.  He sees it pass between them.  “Oh no you don’t!  I agreed to be the Commander of your forces.  Nothing more.”

“That may change in time.  You have already added one new title to your name, what’s a few more?”

His eyes narrow at Leliana.  “What do you mean by that?”

Josephine enters with her arms full of papers.  “Sorry, I’m late.  I have a lot of official statements to write.”  She drops the papers onto the war table.  She looks him up and down.  “That’s not what I had in mind when I asked them to fetch you some clothes.  How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly well rested.  Tender in spots, but nothing I can’t handle.  And what’s wrong with my armor?”

Josephine looks between the two other women.  “You haven’t told him yet?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.  “She was just about to.  You all know how I feel about surprises.”

Ever the blunt one, because she also knows he hates bullshit and fluff, Cassandra speaks.  “The people have taken to calling you the Herald of Andraste.  They have decided that she was the woman behind you in that rift.”

He braces himself on the table as his mark flares.  They all take a step towards him and waves them off.  “Andraste?  Could that be true?”

“There’s no way to know for sure.  If you remembered what happened, then we might know more.  But that is what they believe.”

“I suppose I’ll have to think that over.  It’s seems unlikely that she would come to me of all people.  Maker knows I don’t deserve it.”

Leliana touches his arm.  “You have always been too hard on yourself, Cullen.  The Maker and his bride work in mysterious ways.  Whether we choose to believe it or not, that is what the people are calling you and we have elected to let them.  It gives them hope.”

He sighs.  “What else have I missed?”

They run through the events of the last few days and they formulate a plan.  The Inquisition is born and they set in motion the wishes of the late Divine.  It’s a long morning and he wants nothing more than to head out to his men.  The news that new recruits have been pouring in make him feel as if he has been slacking despite being unconscious.  There is talk of finding a replacement for him since he has new duties that will constantly take him away from Haven, but he refuses.  He knows his men and is the best suited for the task.  He does however promise to keep an eye out for someone who would be suited to perform his commander duties when he is away.

He needs air.  All of this is overwhelming him and he needs to feel a blade in his hand.  Josephine informs him that his armor has been returned to his tent, though he is more than welcome to stay in the cabin he woke in.  He politely refuses that as well.  He has a policy of staying with his men and no mark on his hand is going to change that.

He leaves the war room and walks briskly through the village.  Trying his best to ignore those around him who ask for his blessings or refer to him as “Your Worship.”  When he reaches the gates of town, he sees a welcome and familiar face.  She is leaning against the open gate, clearly waiting for him.

“You look better.”

“Do I have you to thank for that?”

She shakes her head.  “I wasn’t allowed in.  At least officially.”

He smirks.  “So you snuck in?”

She shrugs.  “You’re my only friend.  It would be a pity if you died on me.”

“Was it that touch and go?”

“The first day.  You improved steadily.  With a little secret help from me, of course.”

He wants to close the distance between them.  He’s known her for years, but she seems different.  More playful.  She used to be so quiet.  He blames her life in the circle for that, but even after leaving Kirkwall she was quiet.  Maybe it was being somewhere new.  Maybe she was finally letting go of all the pain.  Maybe she was allowing herself to enjoy something for once.  It occurs to him, as it has before, that their friendship was lopsided.  She knew everything about him, the hazards of being his therapist.  She knew everything that had happened to him and everything he has done.  She has even suffered at his hand and yet she appears to have forgiven him.  He knew very little about her.  He knew she was raised in The Gallows, suffered at the hands of templars, maybe even mages too.  She had no friends besides him and yet she is very closed off. Until this moment it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask.  What kind of friend did that make him?

“Is everything alright?”

He blinks quickly, pushing the thought from his head, realizing he had lost himself in thought.  Then he smirks at her question.  He can’t recall her every actually asking him.  With one touch she would have her answers, yet her arms remained wrapped around her abdomen, her palms pressed into her sides.  He meets her eyes.  There’s something there, something in them that causes him to become concerned.  “As well as can be expected.  You?”

She looks away from him.  “Fine.”

“Walk with me?”

She nods and follows him through the camp.  He pauses to receive a few reports from Rylen and issues some instructions regarding the new recruits.  All the while keeping an eye on her.  Something is clearly bothering her.  The mask of good humor and civility that she has been wearing falls away when she thinks he isn’t looking.  He holds open the flap of his tent and motions with his hand full of reports for her to enter.  She ducks under his arm and he steps in the tent behind her.  He drops the stack of paper on the desk and heads straight for his armor.  She turns her back to him as he begins to change.

“So.  How has it been since I stabilized the Breach?”

“Fine.”

He looks at her over his shoulder as he folds his shirt neatly.  “Alyssa, I don’t buy that for a moment.”  He bends to open his trunk and sets the shirt inside.  He unlaces and pulls off his casual boots.  He begins to unlace his pants and looks at her over his shoulder again.  Her back is still turned to him.  She looks cold now that he is observing her.  He pulls his mantle from the armor stand and holds it out to her.  “Here.  It’ll have to do for now.”

She looks over her shoulder.  “I can just use your blanket.”

“Just take it.”  She takes it from him and wraps it around her shoulders.  “Thank you.  You should ask Josie… Lady Montilyet to find a suitable cloak for you.”  He turns his back to her again and continues to undress.  Her eyes trail along his back.  She moves to him and presses her cold fingers against it.  He shivers and his whole body stiffens.  His pants are undone.  It was not a very proper situation to be in.  “Something wrong?”

“Some these have opened up again.”  She traces the old scars with her magic filled fingers and he swallows hard.   He closes his eyes.  Women typically avoided touching his scars, which was hard to do since he had so many.  He wonders if he’ll even be able to lay with a woman now that he has the mark.  Her fingers feel so good against his ruined skin.  The tips of her fingers are soft despite the hardships he is sure she has experienced.  Then he realizes it’s not her touch that he’s responding to, but the lyrium in her magic.  His mouth waters.  Her hand pulls away suddenly.  “I’m sorry.  I should have asked first.”

He groans at the loss of her touch and her magic.  “It’s fine.  I need to be in peak physical health before I head out.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

There is a hint of fear in her voice.  He is unfortunately all too familiar with the sound.  He wants to turn around, to face her, to let her know that he wouldn’t dream of leaving her behind, but he looks down at his half undressed form and thinks better of it.  “Not yet.  Plans are still being formulated, but reports of rifts are popping up all of Thedas and I’m the only one who can close them.”  He looks over his shoulder and she has turned her back to him again.  He quickly changes out of his causal pants and pulls on the padded leather pants of his armor.  He pulls on his undershirts and tucks them in.  Her laces his pants and turns to face her.  “Alyssa.”

She looks over her shoulder then turns to face him.  “Yes?”

“You know I wouldn’t just leave you here on your own, right?  I didn’t in Kirkwall and I won’t now.”

She crosses her arms over her chest.  “I didn’t expect your aid then and I don’t expect it now.  However, if you are offering me a spot in your… I’m not even sure the proper word for it, but if you are offering me a place at your side, to be a part of your… team, then I’ll take it.  If you are offering to just drag me around as some sort of… I don’t know… orphaned animal… then I might have to pass.”

Her words cut more than he was expecting.  “Alyssa.  I… I’m not sure what to say to that.”

“You could tell me what purpose I would have?  Sitting around Haven these past few days.  Living with former circle mages…”

“They put you with the circle mages?”

She nods.  “The so called loyal mages.”  She pulls her identification papers from her pocket.  “Sometimes I wish I could just burn this.  You should see the looks I get when they find out I survived the Rite of Annulment.”

He looks between the paper and her face.  “Then why don’t you?”

She summons a fire ball in her hand and holds the paper in the flames.  He watches the fire lick at the edges of the paper, but they remain unburnt.  “I’ve tried.”  She closes her hand around the ball of fire and extinguishes it.  “It seems I’m as tied to this as I am to my phylactery.”

“I have apologized for not being able to find it.  Meredith hid them well.”

She shoves the paper back in her pocket.  “You asked me what was wrong earlier?”  He nods.  “Everything.”

“Everything?”

She sighs.  “I hate to sound melodramatic about this, but… I don’t know where I belong here.  In the circle, I knew.  I was a lowly mage and nothing more.  Even when I began your treatments, I was still just a lowly mage who had a usefulness.  Now, you have left it all behind and I am still just a homeless, lowly, useful, mage.  Staying with those mages has made me realize that I have gone nowhere.  I might be out of Kirkwall, but I’m still trapped in the circle.  Which I suppose is why they chose to name it that as the path always leads back to the same place.”

“That wasn’t my intention when I decided to bring you with me.  Or even when I prevented you from being taken to Starkhaven with the rest of the mage survivors.”

“Because I am useful.  I have a particular skill set that helps you sleep at night.”

He puts his hands on his hips and sighs.  “Is that truly what you think of me?  You know better than anyone that is not the reason I keep you around.”  He steps towards her.  “I’m not sure what has happened since arriving here, but if you need to reassure yourself of my intentions, feel free.”  She shakes her head.  “Alyssa.  You aren’t the only one who doesn’t have any other friends here.  You know me.  Better than I know myself.  I trust you.  One touch and you’d see that.  I am incapable of lying to you.”

She steps back and removes his mantle from her shoulders.  She holds it out to him.  “I should… let you get dressed.”  He reaches for the mantle but quickly grabs her wrist.  She recoils, flinching away from him.  He realizes the moment was too fast, too forceful, but he holds onto her.

She closes her eyes as his emotions flow into her.  The pathway is wide open.  If she wanted to, she could reach into his mind and read every thought he had.  She can feel that his words are true, he believes every single one.  “Read me, Alyssa.  Invade my thoughts.  Find the answers you need from me.”

She always had a hard time refusing requests like that.  Not just from him, but from anyone who asked.  Mages in The Gallows were her most willing subjects.  And now the loyal mages at Haven.  He was the only templar, or non-mage for that matter, to ask her… no, to offer her opportunities like this.  She drops the fur and cloth on the ground and wraps her fingers around his wrist.  She closes her eyes as his thoughts and memories invade her head.  He had that part wrong.  She never invaded his mind, that’s not how her ability worked. 

His mind is begging her to believe him.  He truly believed she was his only friend.  His fear of mages was still present, especially with this strange magic in his hand, but he trusted her.  He had complete faith in her.  He wanted her to come with him in the field because he needed her.  Not her abilities, not her power, but her.  His friend.  His only friend.  He freed her from the circle because he chose to save her.  She had spent her whole life imprisoned and secluded because having contact with others caused her pain.  He didn’t know much else about her, but he knew that to be true.  He also felt the need to seclude himself, thinking that avoiding attachments with his fellow templars would make it easier if the events at Kinloch Hold ever happened again, it didn’t work though as he felt the loss of those who died in Kirkwall, civilians, templars, and mages.  And now he feels the loss of the conclave.  She could see the tons and tons of guilt he carried around because of his actions or in some cases the lack thereof.  He is reminded of some of the horrible things he’s done when he looks at her. He knows full well that some of her mental scars are because of him.

She pulls her arm away.  She is out of breath and leans forward with her hands resting on her knees.  “Did you see what you needed?”

“I’m…”  She is always exhausted after she links her mind to another.  Especially when that other person is shouting things at her with their mind.  Begging and pleading for her not to pull away.  “I’m a person to you?  More than just a mage?”

“Yes.  And like me, you have suffered at the hands of the Chantry long enough.”

She looks up at him.  “Are you saying… that mages should be free?”

He shakes his head.  “Not exactly.  But circles should stop being treated like prisons.  I think mages should be trained and educated to use their abilities.  I’m not sure what that means in practice, but mages and templars don’t have to be at odds.  Maybe a healer’s clinic with templar support.  Or mixed military service.  That’s not the point right now though.  Yes, you are more than a mage.  You are more than what you are.”

“What do you purpose then?”

He picks his mantle off the ground and dusts it off.  “Well, first we need to get you better accommodations.  Being around these loyal mages seems to messing with your head.  Same with the rebel mages, I imagine.”

“We have those too?  Maker, how are people not killing each other?”

He chuckles.  “I wonder that myself quite often.”  He hangs the mantle back on his armor stand.  “Solas and Varric have been offered private lodgings because they are a part of my inner circle.”

“Inner circle?”

“There’s a council, which right now consists of Leliana, Cassandra, Josephine, and myself, and we’re the leaders of the Inquisition.  Then there’s the inner circle.  Our most trusted friends and allies, those who will accompany me in the field.  Solas, Varric, and Cassandra are a part of that.  This might grow over time, but I was thinking.  I want you in the field with me.  Cassandra will not allow that to happen unless you are a part of this inner circle.”

She straightens and folds her arms over her chest.  “Are you asking…?”

“I am.  Is that a problem?”

She shakes her head.  “Only if you fail to actually ask the question.”

He smirks.  “Alyssa.  Would you like to be a member of my inner circle?”

“Gladly.”  He holds out his hand and she eyes it.  “Cullen, you know I don’t…”

“Just shake my damn hand.”  She takes his hand and shakes it quickly before letting it go.  Every time they touch, he is always a little curious as to what she feels or sees in him.  He wonders if he can see his growing infatuation with her.  She probably can, so he reminds himself to be more careful.  “Do you mind waiting here while I finish with my armor and reviewing these reports?  I’d like you to be with me when I tell them.”  She nods and sits on his cot.  She pulls his blanket around her.  He turns back to the armor rack and resumes his task.  She looks away from him as he readies himself.  He is sufficiently covered, but she feels odd just sitting there watching him.

Her mind drifts and it returns her to memories of Kirkwall.  They are really the only ones she has, so she shouldn’t be surprised that this is where her mind goes when it is idle.  The memory she is currently reliving isn’t entirely unpleasant.

***

_After the Rite of Annulment and the ensuing battle in The Gallows with Meredith and the Champion, Cullen had the nearly impossible task of getting Kirkwall back in order.  Hawke helped him as the new Viscount, but there were few mages left to govern and he had lost a number of men in the chaos.  This particular day, Cullen had decided The Gallows were not a safe place to be with Meredith stuck to the stones.  He had called her into his office as he wrote a letter._

_She taps on the open door to his new office.  “You wanted to see me, sir?”_

_He looks up and motions for her to step forward.  “Yes.  Come in, Alyssa.  And shut the door would you?  These interruptions are driving me crazy.”  A closed door makes her nervous, but she does as she is instructed.  He motions to the chair in front of his desk.  “Please.  Sit.  I understand that you’ve been helping clean up inside the circle.”_

_She nods.  “Yes, sir. The few remaining mages and I felt it was our duty.”_

_“Thank you for doing that.  I’m sure it isn’t easy.  I never said before, but I’m glad you decided to surrender to Meredith instead of fighting.  I… I would have… in any case, I’m happy you are alive.”  He pauses and she can tell he’s not finished yet.  He taps the feathered end of his quill on the desk.  “I need to ask you a favor and your… opinion on something.”_

_“My opinion, sir?”_

_“Uh… yes.  The Gallows are… an unpleasant place to be.  And now a dangerous one.  What with the former Knight-Commander… I am thinking of relocating the mages here, though I’m not sure who would be able to take them in. Though I’m willing to bet it’s going to be Starkhaven.  What I want to know is if you think the relocation should be permanent?  Meaning there is a templar presence here to clean up the mess Orsino and Meredith left us, but no mages.”_

_Her chest tightens.  “I’ve never known anything other than The Gallows.  But if it would be safer, than I’m sure the others would go along with it.”_

_He nods and his quill scratches against the paper.  He looks up at her.  “That brings up my next point.  If I am relocating these mages, I will need to collect their phylacteries to send to Starkhaven.  This requires Kirkwall to have a First Enchanter.”_

_“What are you asking, sir?”_

_“I understand the position has to be elected?”  She nods.  “I want you to apply for the position.”_

_Her eyes go wide.  “Me?  Why me?!”_

_“I know you and I trust you.  You have also lived here your whole life.”_

_“The only problem is that I’m just a mage.  Not an Enchanter.  You have to be a Senior Enchanter, conferred by the Divine in order to become a First Enchanter.”_

_“I’m aware.  This is only temporary.  I just need someone to help my open the door to the phylactery chamber.”_

_She sighs.  “I will see what I can do.”_

_“That’s all I ask.”_

_“Is there anything else?”_

_He opens his mouth to speak.  Then closes it.  He shakes his head.  She stands and leaves the room.  Later that evening she comes back and knocks on his door.  “Enter.”_

_“Knight-Commander?”_

_“Alyssa.  What can I do for you?”  She steps into the room and grips the back of the chair in front of his desk._

_“They have agreed.  I will be First Enchanter for this and only this.  They also wish to express their gratitude for allowing them to relocate.”_

_He looks up from the letter he is writing.  “Them to relocate?  Are you not planning on going with them?”_

_She sighs and summons her courage.  “I… If you will allow it, sir.  I would like to stay in Kirkwall.  At least for now.  What’s a Circle of Magi without a mage, right?”_

_“Starkhaven didn’t have mages after the circle burned down.  It was up to the templars to rebuild and it is my understanding that they have.  We will do no different here.”  He looks down at his letter and then back up at her.  “Why the hell would you want to stay here?”_

_“Can I speak freely?”  He nods.  “It’s my home.  Or as close to one as I’ve ever had.  Honestly, I’m terrified of leaving.  I’ve finally found a templar who is actually nice to me.  I’m not sure I’ll find that there.  I’d rather stay where… where I know I…”_

_He holds up his hand to stop her.  She worries that she has gone too far.  She heart rate increases and her breathing becomes shallow.  He nods.  “Then you can stay.”  She sighs in relief and her knees nearly give out._

_“Thank you, sir.  I know it must seem strange that a mage actually wants to stay in this hell hole, but…”_

_He shakes his head.  “I don’t find it strange at all.  I’ve seen what templars have done here and at other circles.  I’m not saying that some of their methods aren’t justified, but there is a line that I’ve seen too many of my brothers and sisters cross lately.  I can’t be the only one who sees that, but I won’t send you off to the unknown when I can’t be certain that you’ll… We’ve known each other a long time now.  And… you’ve helped me beyond imagining.  Alyssa.  I…  I’ve never…”  He sighs and rubs his neck.  “Maker’s breath.  I’m not sure how to say this.”_

_She moves around the chair and sits.  She holds out her hand.  Knowing what she means to do, he places his hand in hers.  She closes her eyes and then opens them.  “I… think I see you as a friend too.”_

_He sighs again.  “I never thought I’d feel that way about a mage after…”_

_“You don’t have to say it.  I know it brings you pain.  And I can sense now that you have multiple reasons for allowing me to stay here.  Some of them are… personal in nature.  And no, I’m not judging you for that.  If I can be completely honest with you, some of my reasons are the same.”_

_He looks at their joined hands.  “Such as?”_

_“I enjoy helping you.  I am beginning to see you as my friend and I am hesitant to let that go.  It’s strange for me to feel this way about a templar, given my past experiences.”  She hisses and pulls her hand away from him.  “I wish you’d stop thinking about the day of my harrowing.  We’re past that now.”_

_“My apologies.  You know how I treated you when I first arrived is a regret of mine.”_

_“Yes, but I don’t like to be reminded of it.”_

_“Understood.  I’ll do my best to put it behind me.”_

_She folds her hands in her lap.  “So, when do we gather the phylacteries of the remaining mages?”_

_“Once I receive word on where they will be going.”_

_She stands and turns to the door.  She pauses with her hand on the knob and looks back at him.  “Let me know if you’ll be requiring my services tonight.”  He nods and she leaves._

***

She looks up at him now as he reads at his desk.  They’ve come so far in their friendship since Kirkwall.  She remembers how upset he was that the phylacteries weren’t where they were supposed to be.  The vault was empty.  He was forced to make new ones, yet he claimed to forget to make a new one for her.  They still existed somewhere, but their location had died with Meredith.  They both wondered how she managed to move them all without Orsino’s knowledge or assistance opening the door.  She shakes her head to clear the thoughts away.  It was water under the bridge, but she found herself thinking about it often since leaving with him.  She was a circle mage no longer, but she worries that one day someone will find hers and use it against her.

She sighs heavily and he looks at her over his shoulder.  “What are you thinking about?”

“The Kirkwall phylacteries.”

He sets the paper in his hand on his desk and turns his chair to face her.  “What about them?”

“Do you think she was able to move them because of the red lyrium?  I doubt Orsino helped her.”

“Possibly.  She still had access to them somehow or we wouldn’t have been able to track those who escaped… I wonder…”  He turns back to this desk and pulls out a clean piece of paper.  She stands with his blanket around her shoulders and goes to look over his shoulder.  He draws the layout of his old office.  “We looked everywhere before we finally made new ones to send with the templars taking the mages to Starkhaven.  But it never occurred to me that she might have hidden them in plain sight.”  He circles a cabinet on the paper.  “This cabinet was a new addition to her office after Hawke returned from the Deep Roads.  It had mostly papers in it.  She was paranoid, so maybe she hid them where she could keep an eye on them.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“Send word to someone I trust still in Kirkwall and have them take a look.  Maybe there was a false back in the cabinet.”

“That’s a lot of vials to hide in such a small space.”

He shrugs.  “Can’t hurt, right?”

“I suppose.  What will you do if you find them?”

He looks up at her.  “Have them destroyed.”  Her eyes are blown wide.  “You seem surprised by that statement.”

She nods.  “I am.  It’s not a very templar thing to do.”

He smirks.  “It’s a good thing I’m not a templar then.  In any case, must of the mages they belong to are dead or had new ones made.  This person I’m sending won’t know how to determine which belongs to you.  So, if they smash them all then we can be certain that I’ve kept my promise to you.”

“Your promise?”

He nods.  “It’s why I went looking for them again before we left Kirkwall.  It was my intention to set you free and that is a big part of it.”

“Cullen… I don’t… how am I supposed to respond to something like that?”

He pushes back from his desk and stands. “You don’t have to.”  She’s not a hugger because of her abilities, but she has the strong urge to hug him now.  She is acutely aware that it would be the first time that has ever happened between them.  He is always careful not to touch her in any way.  She knows it’s because he doesn’t want to force anything on her.  His thoughts or feelings.  He never gets that close without asking her first.  Which she appreciates.  Still, the desire to wrap her arms around his neck is the strongest it has ever been in her entire life.  She is much shorter than him and a hug around the neck would probably mean jumping.  He watches as she contemplates something with an expression he has never seen.  Her eyes are brimming with tears and she nibbles her bottom lip.  She looks up at him suddenly.

“Fuck it.”  She flings herself at him.  Her toes grazing the ground as she wraps her arms tightly around his neck.  He instinctually wraps his arms around her ribcage and bends down some.  She is still pressed up on her toes.  The side of her face in pressed against his.  He tries is damnedest to lock his mind, but he knows it’s too late.  She has already felt his surprise and instant enjoyment.  She already knows that he has just smelled her skin and made a mental note of how good she smells.  And she already knows that he would hold her like this whenever she wanted him to.  He feels her chuckle more than he hears it.  “Yes.  It is too late.”

He sets her down and flushes bright red as he steps out of her embrace.  He rubs his neck and averts his eyes.  “What was that for?”

“Setting me free.”

“I still haven’t…”

“It’s the thought that counts.”  She smirks and he flushes again.  Heat burns in his ears.

“Maker’s breath.  Could you please forget that you heard any of that?”

She wipes the tears from her eyes.  “I’ll try.  Or at least not mention it, if that’s what you want.”

He runs his fingers through his hair and scoops up a few folded pieces of paper of his desk.  “I need to get these sent off.  Come with me.  I’m calling a meeting once I’m done.”  He doesn’t wait for her to answer and stalks out of his tent.  She drops his blanket back on his cot and chases after him.


	3. Dangers of Alcohol

She stands looking around her new digs.  Since Cullen has elected not to use the cabin, it is now hers.  She can see the front gate from her door which meant she wasn’t far from him.  Varric waves at her from his spot by the fire and she waves back.  He waves her over and she shakes her head.  She hoped he’d leave her alone, but she had no such luck.  He starts walking towards her and she leans on her door frame.  He grins at her as he comes closer to her.  “Seems like we’re going to traveling companions.”

“Depends on what he feels he needs on the road I suppose.”

“And they gave you a house.  All I got was a tent.”

“Are you asking to trade?”

He laughs.  “Hardly.  This is too far from the tavern for my liking.  Speaking of.  Care to join me for a drink?”

She shakes her head.  “Thanks, but no.  I’m waiting on a delivery.”

“They can just leave it inside.  And you need to socialize.  If it makes you feel any better, I’m forcing Cassandra to join us as well.”

She chuckles.  “I find it hard to believe that anyone can force her to do anything.”

“My point is they are waiting for us.”

“They?”

“Cassandra and Solas.  I’m sure Curly will be join us at some point as well.  Can’t go gallivanting all over Thedas when we don’t know each other.”

She groans and shoves off the door frame.  “Fine.  You win.”  She reaches behind her and closes her door.  “Lead the way.”  She follows along behind him with her arms crossed over her chest.  The cold air blows through her robes and hair, sending a wave of chills up her spine.  He looks behind him.  “Where’s your cloak?”

“I don’t have one.  That’s the delivery I was waiting one.  Cu… The Commander said he was going to order me some warm armor since a cloak and magic don’t usually get along.”

Varric chuckles.  “I think we’re supposed to call him Herald now.”  He opens the tavern door and motions for her to enter.  She instantly spots Cassandra and Solas sitting at a table.  Solas seems to be talking about something, but Cassandra isn’t really listening.  She sits slouched forward and she runs her finger around the base of her tankard.  She straightens as Alyssa and Varric approach.  Alyssa catches the word spirit spill out of Solas’s mouth and she stops walking.  Cassandra stands to close the distance.  “Thank the Maker you two showed up.  I appreciate his knowledge, but if I hear any more about the Fade tonight I’m going to throttle him.”

Alyssa has to take a second to center herself.  It has been drilled into her since she was a child that talking about spirits and demons made them more attracted to you.  Her dreams were plagued enough, she didn’t need more beings in the Fade who wanting to touch her.  “Maybe we can get him to change the subject.”

Varric nods.  “Leave that to me.”  He waves to Flissa and she nods.  He sits down at the table and they sit with him.  Flissa brings over two ales and sets them on the table.  Varric grabs one and holds it aloft.  “Here’s to new adventures and new friends.”  Cassandra rolls her eyes, but joins in the toast.  They all clink their tankards together and drink.  As always, Alyssa is careful not to touch anyone.  Varric turns his attention to her.  “This adventuring business is new to you.  How are you feeling about it?”

“I don’t know.  It’s exciting, I guess.”

Solas chuckles.  “You guess?  I figured you’d be excited to leave the circle.”

“I’ll point out that I’ve already left the circle.  So, this is already an adventure.  Going out into the world in this manner is a little scary, if I’m honest.”

The elf scoffs.  “And I suppose you think mages should remain in circles?”

Cassandra grunts.  “We didn’t come here to discuss our stance on mages.  We came to get to know each other better.”

Alyssa thinks this is typical behavior for an apostate.  Always assuming that circle mages are all the same.  “As a matter of fact, no.  I don’t think mages should be confined.  Educated and taught to control their magic, yes.  Imprisoned, no.”

“You call circle training an education?”

She glares at him.  “Almost everything I’ve learned, I’ve learned inside a circle.  I don’t see what’s so bad about that.  Some of us don’t get the luxury or choice to learn on our own.  So, why look a gift horse in the mouth?  We should all take advantage of the opportunities presented to us.”

Cassandra looks over at her.  “I agree.  But again, we aren’t here to debate the merits or disadvantages of being trained in a circle or being an apostate.  Because technically speaking, all mages are apostates now.”

Solas leans forward with his elbows resting on the table.  “Name one thing the circle taught you that you could not have learned on your own.”

She rolls her eyes.  “I’m sure the others at the table aren’t interested in this line of conversation.”

Varric shrugs.  “May as well answer the question or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

She sits back in her chair.  “Well… If I hadn’t been in the circle, I have a feeling I would have killed myself by now.”

Solas raises an eyebrow.  “Why is that?”

“I’m an empath.  When I was younger, I didn’t know how to shut it off.  I was hearing and feeling things constantly.  It was driving me crazy.  But First Enchanter Orsino worked with me and now I can control it.  It takes a lot of energy to use it and I can’t do it long distance now, but I’m not in constant misery and my head doesn’t feel like it’s about to explode.  Without an experienced mage to help me, I would have either killed myself or gone mad long ago.”

“You don’t think you would have eventually mastered it?  You wouldn’t have had all those emotions and thoughts swimming around your head if you were alone.”

She smirks.  “True, but how can you learn to master an ability that only manifests around other people if there are none?”

“And you feel you’ve mastered this skill with his help?”

“Care to roll this dice?”  She holds out her hand. 

Varric chuckles.  “Hold on a second.  That sounds like a wager.”

She looks over at him.  “If you like.”

Solas sits up smugly.  “You think you can read my thoughts with a touch?”

“I never said that.  Emotional climates are the easiest.  Even the shortest contact can give me that.  It’s more challenging to dig deeper, but the longer the physical contact the easier it becomes.”

“A challenge then?  One thought.”

She grins.  “Fine.  One thought.  I’ll even let you select which one.”

“How would I go about doing that?”

She sits back and crosses her arms.  “You mean the apostate elf can’t figure out how to think a single thought?  Tsk tsk tsk.”

His eyes narrow and he reaches out for her hand.  Cullen enters the tavern at this moment.  Varric waves him over and he pulls up a chair.  The dwarf leans over.  “Alyssa has just challenged Solas.  He doesn’t think she can read his thoughts.”

He chuckles softly.  “Anyone putting coin down on this?”

“Not yet.”

He pulls a few silvers from his pocket.  “3 silvers that Alyssa succeeds.”

She looks over at him.  She didn’t even see him walk in.  Solas reaches into his own pocket and matches the bet.  Cassandra leans back in her chair and sips her ale.  “This should be good.”

Varric scoops up the coin.  “Bets are placed.  It’s show time!”

Alyssa takes Solas’s hand and closes her eyes.  She chuckles.  “Come on you can do better than that.  Everyone at this table already knows that you think I’ll fail.”  Her brows furrow as several of his thoughts enter her head at once.  She pulls her hand away and takes a long sip from her ale.  “I probably shouldn’t repeat what you just thought out loud.”

He smirks.  “Sounds like a failure to me.”

She exhales in a huff.  “Fine.  I got three very clear thoughts from you.  And few not so clear.  Which should I share?”  She drums her fingers on her tankard.  “I could summarize them if you like.”

Cullen waves to Flissa and leans forward.  “Start with his emotions.”

She nods.  “Alright.  He feels cocky and self-assured.  Smug even.  But he’s also curious.”

“Correct.”

Varric smiles.  “Come on!  Get to the good stuff.”

Her cheeks flush.  “He was thinking about how I would look naked.”

Solas smirks and takes a drink from his mug.  “Hand the Commander the coin.”

Cassandra gasps.  “Really?!”

He nods.  “I am a man, Seeker.  But more importantly I wanted to see if she’d be brave enough to actually say what I was thinking.”

“Which is another thought I received.”

Varric drops the coin in Cullen’s waiting hand.  He takes his ale from Flissa and hands them to her.  “Keep them coming.”  She smiles and nods.  “So, that’s two.  What was the third?”

She looks at Solas.  “I’m not sure I should say.”

Solas leans forward and holds her eye contact.  “Afraid you got it wrong?”

“No.  I was worried it might not have been something you wanted me to pick up.”

“So far, the things you’ve picked up on where things I wanted you to.  I’m sure the third isn’t any different.”

Cullen takes a sip from his tankard.  “If he’s comfortable with you revealing his thoughts to the table, I say go for it.  He did give his permission after all.”

She takes another long draft and empties it.  She sets the tankard on the table and her eyes meet Solas’s again.  “You wanted to know if I would meet you in your room later to see if your mental image was correct.”

The table erupts in laughter.  She runs her hand through her hair and shakes it out.  The way he’s looking at her even while he laughs makes her pulse increase.  Not because the idea of having sex with him turned her on, but because sex was hard for her.  All that physical contact and the thoughts invading her mind.  She’s never enjoyed laying with a man because she has yet to learn how to shut her abilities off completely.  If she could only flip a mental switch and choose when she uses them, then she might be able to enjoy it more.

She clears her throat.  “Can we please talk about something else?”

They all laugh some more and she shakes her head.  Varric smirks at her.  “Is all of this too much for your innocent soul?”

She nods to Flissa as another round is brought to the table.  She grabs one and takes a few drinks.  The alcohol is already making her mind buzz.  She chuckles.  “Oh, my dear dwarf.  I’m not as innocent as some at this table would like to believe.”  Her eyes dart to Cullen and then back to Varric.

“What was that look for?”

Varric laughs and smacks the table.  “No!  You and the Commander?”

Cullen’s face turns a deep shade of red and he rubs his neck.  “No!  We’ve never… I wouldn’t… Maker’s breath.”

She laughs.  “I didn’t sleep with Cullen.  I was implying that mages had more sex in Kirkwall than he wants to believe.”

Varric chuckles.  “Oh.  Well that I can believe.  I assume you are one of those mages?”

“Once or twice.”

Solas rubs his pointy chin.  “I imagine that’s hard with your particular skill set.”

She nods.  “It’s really hard to enjoy something when you can hear a person’s thoughts during the whole thing.”

Cassandra laughs.  “I imagine it’s a lot of, A little to the left.  Or wishing you’d do certain things to them.”

She chuckles.  “One time it was a list of passages they needed to read before some exam or trial he had.  Another time he was thinking about what his… never mind.  I probably should not be sharing these things.”

Cassandra nods.  “You are probably right.  A person’s thoughts are private things.  Granted, something like this could come in handy when meeting people.  You can determine in a few seconds whether they wanted to kill us or not.”

“I could, but I’d prefer not to.  Having someone else’s mind over rule your own is… unpleasant.”

Cullen leans back in his chair.  “A change of subject then.  Varric.  How’s Hawke?”

This sets the dwarf off.  There is nothing Varric likes to talk about more than Hawke.  This usually consists of telling some crazy story about an adventure they had together or some hilarious moment in the Hanged Man.  This gives Alyssa a chance to clear her head and take a break from talking about herself.  She hates talking about herself.  Talking about herself meant talking about the past and with few good memories to recall, she was typically forced to think about the bad ones.  Movement across the tables pulls her focus and her eyes meet Solas’s again.

He has leaned forward.  “I could help you.”

“With?”

“Your magic.  Namely how to turn it off when you want to enjoy a moment of physical contact without hearing what that person is thinking or feeling.”

“And how would you do that?”

He rubs his chin.  “Are you a dreamer?”

“Yes.  Fortunately, I had it under control rather quickly and could hide it.”

“Why is that a good thing?”

She sighs.  “Dreamers were made tranquil in Kirkwall under Meredith’s reign.  She claimed it was safer than trying to train them.  Hell, she almost made me tranquil a few times because she felt my empathic abilities opened me up to possession.”

He shakes his head.  “If anything, that would make you stronger against them.”

“As long as they didn’t touch me, that statement is true.  But should a demon touch me for longer than a few moments, then I would be completely overcome by the… essence they embody.  Desire.  Rage.  Despair.  A person doesn’t have that kind of power over me, because a person doesn’t just feel one thing at a time.  A demon _is_ that one thing.  It is pure emotion.  It would consume me.”

“That’s a sound theory.  All the more reason to perfect the control you already have.  Don’t you want to be able to move through the world and not have to worry about keeping your distance?  To have full control over yourself and your magic?”

She sighs and takes a long drag from her ale.  “More than anything.”

“Then meet me at my cabin tomorrow and we’ll get started.”

“Should I be worried?  Because I feel worried.”

He chuckles.  “There is no need to worry.  I won’t touch you unless you allow it.”  He winks at her and she feels her cheeks burn.  She hides her face by taking another drink. 

The night continues on and by the end of it, she is plastered.  To her horror, she realizes she is a touchy drunk.  From clapping someone on the back to falling into someone’s arms when she trips and falls.  Hanging onto them in a fit of laughter while their thoughts pour into her head unchecked.  And she prays that the things she has picked up from the minds of her new friends will be forgotten by morning. 

She sits at the table with her forehead pressed against it.  The world is spinning in a very unpleasant way and she is terrified to move.  Cullen briefly touches her back and she groans.  “No.  I’m not ok.”

Her voice is heavily slurred and he chuckles.  “Drink some water.”  She slowly sits up and sips at the glass of clear liquid in front of her.  She groans again and lays her head on the table.

“Kill me now.”

He sits in the chair next to her.  “I tried to get you to slow down.  We’re all experienced drinkers and you are not.”

“I’m aware.”

He brushes her hair from her face, careful not to touch her.  “Maybe you should call it a night.”

“I would have left a while ago, but walking makes me…”  She lifts up slightly to drink more water.  “Maker.  I think I’m going to be sick.”

He looks across the table at Cassandra, Solas, and Varric.  “I’m going to help her get home.  I’ll be back.” He pulls her chair away from the table and she groans. “Come on.  My thoughts are nothing new to you.”  She wraps her arm around his neck and he scoops her into his arms.  She presses her face against the cool metal of his armor.

Varric laughs.  “Yeah ok.  See you later, Curly.”  They all knew he wasn’t coming back.  Maybe if it had been one of them he would have, but because it was the helpless little mage he brought with him from Kirkwall, there was no way he was coming back when she needed him.  He may not know it yet, but they sure did.

The cold night air hits her skin and sends chills running through her.  He holds her tighter and she groans.  “Stop thinking so loud.”

He chuckles.  “I’m trying not to.”

As they reach her door, she squirms violently in his arms.  He sets her down and she staggers off the side of her little house.  He hears her retching, no doubt killing the elfroot that grows there.   She comes staggering back towards the front of the house, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  She waves him off as he steps forward to help her.  He shakes his head and opens her door.  She steps inside under his arm and he follows her in.  She goes straight for the bed and flops down on it face first.  He begins taking off her shoes and she groans.  “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you sleep with your shoes on.”

“I look forward to the day when I can turn this shit off.”

“I know you do.”  He sets her shoes on the floor.  He finds a bucket in the junk that fills the corner of the one room cabin.  Someone needed to do something about that.  He sets it on the floor near her head.  “Alyssa.  There’s a bucket here if you need to…”

She rolls off the bed in her effort to reach it.  He holds her hair back as another wave of sick rolls out of her.  He didn’t remember her drinking that much.  Then it hits him.  “Did you eat today?”  She groans and shakes her head.  “Well, that explains it.  A note for future reference.  Don’t drink that much unless you’ve eaten first.”

She looks at him from the corner of her eye.  “This sucks.  Why does anyone even like drinking?”

“It’s usually fun.  A way to relax after a long day.”

“This is far from relaxing.”

He chuckles.  “Get some sleep.  I would say you’ll feel better in the morning, but that’s probably not going to be true.”

She groans and curls up into a little ball on the floor.  She throws her arm over her face.  He stands there watching her, just in case she needs help.  She peeks out from under her arm.  “I’ll be ok.  Go ahead and go back to them.”

He puts his hands on his hips.  “I can’t in good conscious just leave you here all by yourself.”

“If you’re staying, help me onto the bed, then sit down and stop staring at me.”

He kneels down beside her and scoops her up off the floor.  She wraps her arms around his neck and curls up in his arms.  He lifts her as if she were made of glass.  Knowing that any sudden movement could send her into another vomiting fit.  He sets her down and she curls up on the edge of the bed.

He picks up a small chair in the corner and sets it next to the bed.  He stretches his legs out in front of him and stares off into space while he waits for her to pass out.  He doesn’t know how long he sits there, waiting, but as he zones out, he thinks about the things Solas said to her… or thought at her… and the things she said in response.  He didn’t know why he assumed she was still a virgin.  Maybe because she never really interacted with other mages.  Not that it mattered to him.  Or did it?  No, it didn’t matter.  She was her own person and what she did in her own time was her business.  Though he does admit to himself that he is curious about who this man or men were.  Who had earned her trust enough for her to allow that to happen?

He looks over at her.  He wants to ask her these things.  He wants to share in her experiences in the same way she has shared in his.  He thinks it would help her move past it.  He has no doubt that she has suffered and he often feels guilty that she has helped him move on from his past when he hasn’t been able to do the same from her.  He’s never met someone as private and closed off as she is.  He thought that he was a fairly private person, striving to keep his professional life and personal life separate.  But maybe she can’t verbally express those things, like he can’t.  And despite wanting to know, he knows he’ll never pressure her to talk about them.

He shakes his head and tries to think of something else.  Anything else beside her.  He closes his eyes and thinks about his troops.  What he needs to do to train the new ones.  Whether or not he should bring some with him to the Hinterlands.  And… he really should leave.  She’s asleep now and it’s not like he’ll be of any use anyway.  She has a bucket if she needs it.  She has a water pitcher and a glass on a small table in the corner.  She doesn’t need him anymore.  He stands and heads for the door.  She moans and paws at the front of her robes.  _Maker she must be hot._   He swallows hard and turns to her.  Her eyes flutter open at his approach.  “They’re stuck.”  She tugs on the one of the clasps that hold her robes closed.

“Do you… need assistance?”

She nods.  _Oh.  Maker this woman is going to be the death of me._   He closes the distance between them and his cheeks flush.  She’s going to see his thoughts if he helps her.  Feel his arousal.  It’s been far too long since he’s been with a woman.  She rolls onto her back and her drunken fingers pull at the metal.  He takes a deep breath, doing his best to bury his thoughts before pushing her fingers out of the way.  He works quickly.  Short bursts of action and then pulls away between each clasp.  He unhooks her belt and sash as well as every clasp down the length of the robe.  He turns away from her before it can fall open.  The sound of fabric hitting the floor is loud in his ears.  He resists the urge to turn around.  It wasn’t the proper thing to do.  He hears rustling behind him.  She clears her throat.  “It’s safe now.”

He turns around and she has covered herself with her blanket.  She is laying on her back with the blanket tucked around her.  He can only see the top of her chest and shoulders.  But it’s enough to reveal a few of her scars.  Scars he didn’t know she had.  He sits next to her on the bed and reaches to touch one of them.  She scoots over on the bed and shies away from him.  He realizes his leg had touched her when he sat down.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean…”

She hikes the blanket higher and hugs it to her neck.  “It’s… not your fault… I… I should probably get some sleep.”

He nods.  “Right.  I’ll just…”  He goes to stand and stops.  “Alyssa?  How did you get those scars?”

She looks away from him.  When she doesn’t answer, he turns to face her again.  He takes her hand and pulls it away from her.  Lines of scars litter her arm.  Her eyes go wide.  “Those aren’t what you are thinking they are!”

“They look like…”

“I know what they look like, but I’m not a blood mage!  You have to believe me!”

He releases her arm.  “Please put my mind at ease then.”

She sits up, still clutching her blanket to her chest.  “I… I’m not… a templar did this to me.”

“What?”

“You know how Meredith was.  And you know how many times I was brought in under suspicion of blood magic or demon possession.  Before I came under your protection, this was someone’s sick attempt at giving her what she wanted.  But when she looked at the wounds, somehow she knew they weren’t self-inflicted and she gave up.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard of people doing that to mages.  He just assumed it was rumor.  At least, Meredith had told him it was rumor or that it had been taken care of.  Alyssa had no reason to lie to him. 

Her head is spinning.  She didn’t know if it was the alcohol, throwing up so much, or the fact that she suddenly felt very sober.  What she did know is that she had let her guard down in a big way without even meaning to.  She cursed herself for allowing it to happen.  The scars on her forearm weren’t even the worst ones she had.  He had no idea what his presence in The Gallows had done to the templars of Kirkwall.  It was better with him around.  Before that, they could do whatever they wanted to the mages and Meredith would turn a blind eye, as would the Knight-Commander before her.  Hell sometimes she even encouraged it.

He turns to face her again.  “And those two scars on your shoulder?”

“I… do we really need to talk about this?”

“Alyssa.  Please.”

Her eyes are pleading, begging him to drop it.  But her keen eye sight, though blurred by alcohol, can see that his expression is set.  He is determined to get the information that he wants.  He will not drop it.  She has seen this expression more than she cared to admit.  But there was something different about it now.  It was softer.  Determined to have his answer but not if she insisted on keeping them to herself.  She didn’t need to be a mind reader to see that.  He cared about her.  She knew that, of course.  But it never really sunk in until now.  Maybe it was time to let it all go.  To let it out.  To attempt to heal, as he was trying to.  She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a huff.

“They are much longer than they appear.”  She points to the sharp end of one.  “Even before Meredith rose to power, things were bad in Kirkwall.  Before her, if a mage broke the rules… we were whipped.  Not all the time, just when it was something we needed to be made an example for.”  She takes and deep breath and turns her back to him.  “I won’t discuss the other scars back there, but the ones that are dark and thin like this…”  She runs her hand along the scar she pointed to until she can’t reach anymore.  “Those are from the lashes.”

His hand twitches forward but he stops himself.  His chest tightens as the reality of what she is saying sinks in.  “Maker’s breath.  What did you do to cause that?”

“I didn’t have my papers.  A rule that didn’t exist when I went to gather herbs on the Wounded Coast at the request of a templar.  They set me up.”

He rubs his neck.  “That rule.  One of Meredith’s first right?”

“Yes.”

“How old were you then?”

She hesitates.  She lays back on the bed and makes sure to cover every single one of her scars.  She closes her eyes to fight the tears.  It was one of her earliest memories and they were her first scars.  She had been used to show the mages that they were not above punishing a child.  “I was 5.  Maybe 6.”

He inhales sharply.  He clinches his jaw, his brows furrow, and his nostrils flare.  She can’t look at him and he is more careful than ever to make sure he isn’t touching her.  For good measure, he stands up and moves away from her.  He takes a breath and opens his mouth to speak, but lets the air out and closes it.  He does this a few more times.  He is outraged.  Why the hell was she even in the Gallows at 5 years old?  Typically mages didn’t manifest until they were older.  The youngest he had ever seen was an 8 year old.  “Were you a mage already by that point?”

“No.  I first starting hearing voices when I was around 10.  It took a month before I figured out they were the thoughts and emotions of others.”

“So, why were you there?  Shouldn’t you have been living with your parents?”

She shakes her head.  “My parents live… lived… I’m not sure if they are alive or not.  It doesn’t really matter.  I’ve never known them.  They were mages in Kinloch Hold.  According to the people I’ve asked about this, my parents came from a long line of mages.  There isn’t a single non-mage in their whole history.  So, it was assumed I would also be a mage.  So, they gave me to Orsino as a baby.”

“That’s monstrous!  And not at all how that’s supposed to go.  What if you had never manifested?  You’d have been subjected to living in a circle for no reason.”

“That obviously never occurred to them.”

He paces the room and she stares at the ceiling.  He is so angry he can’t see straight.  Born and raised in the Circle of Magi.  For 10 years, she was just a normal child, being tormented along with the other mages until she actually became one.  How much worse did it get for her after that?  Her back had so many scars on it.  Some dark and thin like the lashes, but others looked more like cuts or burns.  He wanted to know everything and he wanted to know it now.  Everything the templars had put her through.  Everything that she had ever experienced.  Good and bad.  Though he assumed it was a lot of bad.  He turns to say something and she has curled in a ball facing the wall.  She hears his footsteps approaching.  “I’m tired.  Can you… go?  Please?”

He could hear the pain in her voice.  He wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.  “I can stay.  If you want.”

“I need to be alone.”

He sighs.  “You know where I’ll be… if you change your mind.”  He makes for the door.  He looks back at her.  He knows she’s crying.  The stuttered rise and fall of her back as she struggles for air, struggles to be silent.  In any other world, he’d refuse to leave.  Rub her back and tell her it was all over, that she was safe, that no templar would ever lay hands on her again.  If it weren’t for her damn ability, he’d be there for her now.  Comforting her.  She has done the same thing to him, especially on the bad days when his withdrawal was at its peak.  And he’s rapidly approaching those days again.  But he won’t force his company and friendship upon her if she wanted to be alone.  He may not know her history, but he knows she would not have turned him away if she didn’t need to be alone in her own mind.  “Alyssa.”

Her heads lifts and turns towards him slightly.  His voice is quiet and full of compassion and understanding.  “If… if you… I’m not sure I’ve ever made this offer before.  At least verbally.  But you should know, if ever want to… talk about these things… as we have talked about mine… you know I’m here for you.”

She nods and lays her head back down.  He goes to leave again but stops.  Something inside of him is screaming for him to stay.  He argues with himself.  He should go as she asked him to, but he has stirred up her past all day today and he can’t bear to leave her like that.  Even if it’s just to sit in that chair and not say a word, being present in that space would be enough.  He wouldn’t feel like he’s abandoning her to her own demons.  She wouldn’t do that to him, so why should he do that to her?  He turns around again and watches her for a moment.  The debate rages in his mind.  Do as she asks or go against her wishes?  He’s completely still in the shadows of the doorway in this moment of indecision.

She rolls over onto her other side and curls back into a little ball under her blanket.  He starts to feel like a creeper just standing there watching her.  She uncovers her face and looks right at him.  “I know you’re still there.”

He sighs and steps forward.  “Can you blame me?  You are my friend and you are suffering.”

“I’ll be fine.  I just need to sleep it off.”

He walks towards her slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that would run off if his movements were too fast.  “Sleeping it off won’t make the memories go away.”

“Please don’t throw my words back at me.  It’s late.  I’m drunk.  And I don’t feel like talking anymore.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just talk to me.”

She sits up and the blanket falls into her lap.  His eyes go wide and he turns his back to her. “Maker’s breath.”  She looks down and quickly gathers the blanket to cover her bare chest.  His face and ears turn bright red.  His armor suddenly feels stifling.

She pulls the blanket up over her head.  “Please go.”  She sounds embarrassed now.  Her tone soft and meek.  And Maker help him, closing his eyes doesn’t help.  The image of her breasts is burned into his mind.  His feet move before his mind can catch up.

“Yes… I think I’ll… I’m so sorry… I’ll… I will… see you tomorrow.”  He is out the door and has it closed behind him before he even registers the cold air.  He leans against it and runs his hand through his hair.  All of this has been very uncharacteristic of him.  Obsessing over a woman who is not only off limits but is his best friend.  He wants nothing more than to just barge back in a ravage her. Though she’d hate that.  She said as much.  Then it occurs to him that it might not even be her.  Yes, he wants her to talk to him.  To share her pain.  But he has never had a single sexual thought about her until now.  How long has it been?  That had to be it.  “Maker, I need to get laid.”  He shoves off the door and stalks back to his tent.

She lays back on her bed covering her face.  How had she been so careless?  She had hidden her scars so well from him and it was all ruined.  And he saw much more than that too.  She groans and digs the heels of her hands into her eye sockets.  She wishes the Maker would just open up a hole and take her into the Void.  How was she going to even look at him much less talk to him after this?  She was at least grateful that he didn’t touch her after that moment.  She didn’t think she could handle the multitudes of thoughts swirling around his head.  She had plenty of thoughts of her own swirling around that she didn’t need him to add to them.

She rolls onto her side and curls into a little ball.  She makes the decision to start training with Solas to get a better handle on her abilities.  She would never admit it, but she craved physical contact.  Just a simple pat on the back or a hug.  Even a hand shake.  She looked forward to the day that she had her owns thoughts when a man touched her instead of her mind being taken over by him.  She tries to focus on her breathing and clearing her mind.  It’s actually easier than she expected and though she anticipates feeling it in the morning, she is currently thanking the Maker for alcohol.


	4. Training Exercises

They avoid each other in the days that follow.  She spends most of her time with Solas, working on turning her abilities completely off.  She has made no progress so far, but she has learned things about magic that she never would have picked up in the circle.  These were probably things he did not intend to teach her, but that is the story of her life.

They find that avoiding each other is harder on the road.  The trip to the Hinterlands is hard for her.  Rogue templars and rebel mages killing anyone and everyone.  Innocent lives being torn apart and knowing that it all came to a head in Kirkwall.  The fighting, screams, and burning buildings take her back there.

She never knew what happened to the apostate who blew up the Chantry.  As she heals a particularly nasty wound on Varric, she hopes that he is dead and that he suffered.  It was his fault that she had to bow before Meredith’s wrath and beg for her life.  It was his fault that her people died.  People who he claimed to want to save.  She knows a simple prompt from her would give her the answer she wanted while her fingers grazed his skin, but she opts to let the dwarf ramble on about nothing in particular.  It’s better that she not know what happened to him.  There’s nothing she could do to change what happened now.

She stares into the fire after his wound is closed and pokes it with a stick.  She watches the embers dance and tries to ignore the memories that are stirred with them.  A soft plop next to her signals that she has company.

“Can’t sleep?”

She glances over at the bald elf and then back at the fire.  “What gave me away?”

“I wonder.  If the fade is like an escape for you, why don’t you go there more often?”

“You know why.”

He hums in response and laces his fingers together.  “Your theory on what happens if a spirit or demon touches you.  Have you had problems while fighting the ones that are pulled through the rifts?”

“They’d have to touch me in order for me to find out.  I haven’t exactly given them the chance.”

“Which is why you felt the need to heal our dwarven friend.”

Her head snaps in his direction.  “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“You dodged the physical attack.  No one can blame you for doing so.  I’m sure the Commander would say something quite different.”

She scoffs and turns her attention back towards the fire.  “I’ve already received a lecture from him about battle tactics and how I should have been more aware that moving would have left Varric’s flank wide open.”

“And this is the most he has talked to you since our night in the tavern?”

She sighs.  “Is it that obvious?”

He chuckles.  “I take it by your tone, a change of subject is about to be requested.”  She turns to face him and he holds out his hand.  “Shall we continue then?”

“You won’t have many secrets left from me if we continue at this rate.”

He smirks and moves his hand closer to her.  “I’ve picked up a few tricks that might make that a little harder.”

“Oh really?”

“Care to roll the dice?”

She places her hand in his and his long fingers curl around her hand.  Right away she can feel his thoughts.  A few new experiences in the fade he is dying to tell someone.  His joy at having another elf to talk to, even if she didn’t know elven.  His idea to then teach her elven.  And as she is tracing the path of another thought, it suddenly cuts off.  Her hand tightens around his and her eyes snap closed.  She can still feel his mind and his emotions, but it’s like a door has been slammed in her face and locked up tight.  There is not a single clear thought in his head.

“Are you alright?”

“What did you do?”

“I’m blocking you.”

“Yes. But how?”

“It is not easy to explain.  Empaths are not unique and there are some beings in the fade who have some experiences with them.  Did you know that what you do is related to a form of blood magic?”

She yanks her hand away from him and stands up.  “No!  That’s… I am not a…”

He holds up his hands and stands.  “I’m not saying that you are.  Though I see no inherent problem with certain types of blood magic.  That’s neither here nor there.  What I’m saying is, mind control and mind reading are tied to the blood in a manner of speaking.”

“So it’s not…”

“No.  I misspoke.  Yes, there is blood magic that involves those things but being empathic is… related in a sense.  What I’m trying to say is that there are magic techniques that can block these particular abilities.  I have simply used them to my advantage.  With practice on my part, I can eventually block you completely.  Though I’m sure that if you tried hard enough, you could easily break my defenses as your magic isn’t tied to blood.  Yours in particular is tied to the fade.  That’s why when your magic manifested it was the voices of others you heard first.  What did it feel like when I blocked you?”

She hugs her arms around her torso and takes a deep breath.  “Like a door was slammed in my face.  I could still hear murmurs of thought, but nothing clear.  I could feel your emotion as I normally do.”

“With enough focus, I’m sure you could easily break down this door.  But as I grow stronger, you will be forced to try harder.  And eventually, you will have to find other ways to access my thoughts.  Backdoors or windows that I might not be aware of.  And thus the harder you try, the stronger you will become.”

He holds out his hand to her.  She takes it and instantly feels the door.  She feels his fingers graze a scar that is peeking out from her pushed up sleeve.  Her anger flares at the touch.  She doesn’t even know why.  Without really trying, she smashes through his mental door and she hears him gasp.  She pulls her hand away and covers her face.  “I’m sorry.”

He chuckles.  “Don’t apologize.”

“It sounded like I hurt you.”

“Not at all.  I was just startled.  I’ve never felt you barge in like that.  Normally, I can’t even feel you in my head, but this time...  I wonder… what did you pick up from my mind in that moment?”

She tugs on her sleeve to make sure the scars are covered.   She never thought she’d miss circle robes, but this cloth and leather armor was doing her no favors where her arms were concerned.  She looks at the ground as she answers his question.  “What does lathbora viran mean?”

“And spoken with perfect diction.  Roughly translated, it means as "the path to a place of lost love," or more accurately a longing for something one can never really know.  I’m actually surprised you managed to pull that out.  That was not something I ever intended…”

She shrugs.  “Occupational hazard.  I won’t ask why you thought that.  It isn’t my place, but I think we found the best way to teach me elven.  If that’s what you want to do.”

He smiles at her.  “I hadn’t planned on actually asking you yet, but yes.  I would like to teach you.  If that’s alright.”

“I don’t see why not.”

He holds out his hand to her.  “Walk with me?”

“While holding your hand?”

“We can talk while we practice.”

She hesitates.  It is an intimate gesture and something she has never done before.  Walking hand in hand with someone, having a casual conversation while her mind is being bombarded with the other’s thoughts.  But Solas has been working on blocking her.  This might be her only chance to have normal physical contact.  Her need to be touched wins out.  She takes his hand and he leads her into the trees.

Cullen watches them go from the opening in his tent.  He knows he has no right to be jealous.  Solas is an elf and a mage.  He has been studying her abilities in order to help her better control them.  Something he should be grateful for.  But the things the two elves have in common only shine a light on how wrong she is for him.  He misses her.  He’d never tell her that.  He wants her to grow as a person, to experience the world outside the circle, to be able to live a normal life without having to worry about reading someone’s mind.  If Solas could help her with that, then he should be happy for her.  He looks down at the green slash in his palm.  Looking at it, seeing the red and irritated edges of the mark, makes him miss her more.  She is the only healer he knows who is even remotely concerned about the person attached to it.  She would have insisted on trying to soothe the skin around it to ease his pain.  He shakes his head and closes his fist.

He has other things to worry about.  More pressing things.  He didn’t need this distraction.  Maybe he should send her away.  Send her back to Haven.  He quickly pushes that thought aside.  It wasn’t her fault that he finds himself suddenly obsessed with her.  A problem that didn’t exist before the Conclave.  At least not to his knowledge.  He wishes that he had never seen her scars, never seen her naked chest.  He wishes he had never learned some of the horrors in her past.  Horrors that only tied him more firmly to her. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and turns into his tent.  He pulls the flap down and lets it hang closed behind him.  The headaches have returned.  The nightmares right along with them.  The withdrawal is starting.  He needed to get back to Haven.  There was no way he would be able to handle this on the road.  Especially if he is trying to keep his distance from her.  He lays down on his bedroll and squeezes his eyes closed.  He mentally plans the trip back.  There is still a lot of work to do in the Hinterlands, but there is no way he’s going to be able to do that when the withdrawal hits full force.  The mark pulses on his hand and it reminds him that there is one more thing that will probably make his withdrawal worse this time.  He actually possesses magic now.  A form of lyrium is stuck on his hand.  He groans and rubs his temples.  It’s going to hit him harder and faster this time.  He is sure of it.  At first light, they need to haul ass back to Haven.   

***

After her walk with Solas in the woods and the rapid trip back to Haven, she starts to fall back into old patterns, which consist of distancing herself from everyone and secluding herself in her room.  The walk was nice, but Solas was not nearly as good at blocking her as he thought.  She saw things in his head that made her realize that he had ulterior motives for wanting to help her.  Motives that involved making her powers stronger and more invasive in addition to giving her full control over them.  He wanted to see if she could reach into the deepest recesses of someone’s mind without them knowing and find their deepest secrets.  So, she opts to keep her distance while she practices on her own. 

Not long after arriving back at Haven, there is a knock on her door and she blinks at it for a moment before going to it.  She presses her ear to the wood.  “Who is it?”

He clears his throat.  “It’s Cullen.”  His voice sounds strained.  She sighs and opens the door.  She steps to the side and motions for him to enter.  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I…”

“Take off your armor and sit on the bed.”  He nods.  He shuffles to the center of her room as she closes and bolts the door.

“I… tried to handle this on my own.  But it’s… too much.  I need…”

“Hush.  You don’t have to explain.  We knew this was coming.”  His fingers are clumsy on the buckles and straps.  She sighs and pushes his hands aside.  She helps him strip down to his sleeveless undershirt.  She can feel the pain that has taken over his mind.  The song is loud and his whole body hurts.  He clearly hasn’t slept in days.  She motions towards her bed and he sits.  She takes off his boots and sets them next to the pile she has created on the floor.  He rests his elbows on his knees and massages his temples with his eyes closed.  She takes this opportunity to get more comfortable herself.  She quickly removes her robes and pulls her nightclothes on, a pair of leggings and a baggy sleeveless top.  This was not her normal behavior, but since he had seen her scars already, there was no sense in being shy about showing her bare arms.

She sits on the bed and leans against the headboard.  “You know the drill.”  He looks at her and his bleary eyes drink in the amount of flesh she is showing.  He lays down on the bed and lays his head in her lap.

“I’m sorry.”  She shakes her head and places her hands on his temples.  She leans forward as she has so many times to rest her forehead on his.  She feels his pain and the fever that is rapidly rising.  She lifts her head from his, her magic surges, and the relief is almost instant.  Her hands are glued to his head.  Her abilities and healing magic lock her hands in place.  She lets him invade her head.  Lets his pain become hers.  He sighs as the pressure behind his eyes lifts away.  He hears her hiss as she inhales.  “That bad?”

“You shouldn’t have let it go so long.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.  Not after…”

“Hush.  I’m trying to focus.”  He opens his eyes and looks up at her as she works her magic on his mind.  Easing his pain and pushing his fears and nightmares away.  He’s never watched her do this.  Her eyes are squeezed closed and her brows are knit together as she concentrates.  Her short hair frames her face in scarlet wisps.  He can feel that she is searching his head for something.  The source of his pain maybe.  When she finds it, her faces relaxes and the magic swirls inside his head.  His eyes close as he drifts deeper into his relaxed state.  He moans softly as his pain slowly melts away.  “The mark has been bothering you?”

It was more a statement than a question.  She knew the answer already.  “Yes.  I’ve been having trouble holding a shield.  The pain is near constant.”  He brings his hands to rest on his chest and he massages his left hand.  Warmth floods his body followed by a rush of cold.  His muscles relax even more and his hands fall to his side.

“You’ve been having a new nightmare.  Do you remember it?”

He takes a deep breath.  “Unfortunately.”

“Tell me about it.”

He knows he doesn’t need to. She’s already seen the whole thing.  But this is how they did things.  She’d work her magic and make him talk about the painful things.  He always felt better having put those things into words.  At least when he was discussing those things with her.  Because she was there to calm his mind when the anxiety started to build.  She kept this demons at bay so that he could express the things that bothered him or that he couldn’t talk about.

“It… it’s hard to put it into words.  It’s still so new.  So… raw.  A combination of new problems and old ones.  A reminder that, yet again, life isn’t easy.  Our lives… my life… I’m not even sure what caused this one.  I still don’t remember what happened at the conclave.  But it’s the second time I’ve been present when important people have been blown sky high.  Along with hundreds if not thousands of others.  That in itself is hard to wrap my mind around.  There has been so much death in recent years and none of it caused by a Blight.”

“And the nightmare?”

“Right.  Yes.  It’s dark.  Pitch black.  Not a single ounce of light, yet I’m running.  Sprinting.  Fleeing from something I can’t see.  The only sounds I can hear are my feet slamming against a rocky and wet ground and the panting of my breath as I blindly rush forward.”  He feels the images surface in his mind and pull away through the magic link her hands have created.  He knows she is living this dream as she always does during their sessions.  He knows that she’ll see the whole thing whether he continues or not, but there’s a cathartic feeling in saying it out loud.  “Then I trip and fall forward into some sort of puddle and then the mark on my hand flares.  Illuminating the area.  And in the green light I can see that I am surrounded by countless horrors.  Creatures I can’t even begin to describe.  I push myself up only to realize that I am unarmed.  Defenseless and alone.  And then the creatures close in.  Some of them morphing into people from my past.  Uldred.  Meredith.  Anders.  Hawke.”  He pauses and opens his eyes.  “You.  Mages and templars who have long since died.  The Divine.  Elthina.  All of those faces.  Judging me.  Hating me.  For things I have done.  For things I let happen.  Or couldn’t stop.  Blaming me.  None of them speak, but I know.  Their expressions speak volumes.  And the silence is deafening.”  He sighs.  “And then the mark calms and the darkness returns.  Then my own screams fill my ears as I’m torn apart.”

“You need to stop blaming yourself for things beyond your control.”

He chuckles.  “Easier said than done I’m afraid.”  She feels him shift and she tightens her grip on his head.  “I… I was wondering…”

“No.  We’re not talking about me.  That’s not how this works.”

“I know that.  I just… seeing your scars… I can’t help but wonder if I caused any of them.”

She sighs and he feels her magic fade.  The connection severs and her hands fall away.  She leans against the headboard, exhausted from her efforts.  He sits up slowly and turns on the bed to face her.  Her eyes are still closed and her head is tilted back.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Did I cause any of your scars?”

She sighs and opens her eyes.  “What do you think?”

He shifts and looks away from her.  “I can think of a few instances that I might have.  Though I think it’s more my inaction that caused them more than something I did directly.”

“Again.  You need to stop blaming yourself from things beyond your control.  To put your mind at rest, no.  You never left a permanent mark on my skin.  Nor do I blame you for any of the things that happened under your watch.  I blame Meredith.  Not you.”

He scoots closer to her.  She pulls her knees to her chest to prevent her legs from touching him.  He holds out his hand.  “May I?”

“What for?”

“You’ve already read every thought I’ve ever had.  I’m not afraid of what you might see.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.  You worry constantly about… never mind.  Your thoughts are your own and I won’t verbally express them.  You should do that on your own.”  She eyes his hand.  She doesn’t want this conservation to shift.  She was much more comfortable talking about his issues.  And she very much wanted to keep hers to herself.  But true friendship is a two way street.  If anyone could handle her baggage, it was him.  She sighs and places her hand in his.  She doesn’t look at him once she realizes what he wants to do.  He studies her arm.  Tracing the flaws in her pale skin with his eyes.  He is so focused that she can almost feel it.  Especially since she can see his desire to actual trace each one with his fingers.  She tenses and closes her eyes.  This felt very personal and she imagines this is what it must feel like when she invades someone’s privacy.

He starts with her right arm.  Her hands are clear of marks.  Her wrist has a ring of dark flesh.  He can see that her other wrist matches.  He looks up at her and she isn’t looking at him.  He wants to know the story, but doesn’t press the issue.  If he had to guess, they were caused by being tied up with rope.  Her hand trembles at his thought.  He takes that as confirmation.  He sees the scars that look self-inflicted, like those cuts found on the forearms of secret blood mages.  They’ve already discussed those so he moves past them.  The rest of her arm is littered with tiny scars of varying shapes and sizes.  The most distinct ones are four v-shaped scars on the inside of her arm.  It is obvious to him that those scars are from someone in armor grabbing her arm.  The last one he sees is the scar on her shoulder that connects to the ones on her back.

He releases her hand and she pulls it away from him.  He holds out his hand again and she makes a small whimper before placing her left hand in his.  The left arm starts off a mirror image of the right arm.  The same marks on her wrist and forearm.  Her upper arm is another story.  The skin from the top of her shoulder to just above her elbow and nearly wraps around the whole arm is shiny.  He can’t tell if it was caused by being burned or maybe acid.  He assumes it was caused by some sort of magic accident.  Her right hand moves to grab her left shoulder near the base of her neck.  The thick straps of her nightshirt covers most of her shoulder, but she obviously didn’t want him to see whatever was peeking out.

“I think you might have as many scars as I do.”  He releases her hand and she wraps it around herself.  “Though I imagine the stories behind them are quite different.”

“Most of yours are from fighting of some sort.  Save the ones on your back.”

He smirks.  “Very true.  I’m sure you could tell me where I got each one.”

“You know that I can.”

“Shouldn’t there be some give and take here?”

She shifts and keeps her right hand firmly clamped over her left shoulder.  “Tell me.  Do you have scars that remind you of happy things?  Some childhood game or a moment of bravery?”

He nods.  “The one scar I can’t hide is tied to a moment of bravery.  Why do you ask?”  She shakes her head and stands up off the bed.  With her back to him, he can make out a few of the scars there.  She hangs her head and shivers.  He knows where the forearms scars came from.  And so far that’s two sets that were connected to something terrible that a templar had done to her.  His stomach drops.  “So… all of them… were…”

“Caused by templars?  For the most part.”

He stands up off the bed and stands behind her.  Not close enough to touch, but close enough for her to know he’s there.  “I… I don’t know what to say.  I knew you had it rough, but I never imagined… how many of those did you get under my watch?”

“Why?  So you can blame yourself again?”

“I… no… I just… I want to… you’ve helped me so much and I’ve never offered the same.  Until the other night that is.  I want…”

She sighs and turns to face him.  “I’m well aware of what you want.”  His face flushes and he rubs his neck.  “You want for me to be an open book, like you are to me.  Not that you really had a say in the matter.  I… don’t like to… you know how you get headaches and the occasional panic attack when thinking and talking about your past?”  He nods.  “The same thing happens to me.  And I’m sure you’ve noticed that I prefer to be alone.  That’s not just because of my abilities.  It’s because it’s what I’m used to.  It’s both my comfort zone and where my nightmares live.  And I try very hard to cover every single one of these… it’s why I’m still wearing circle robes… why I’m always tempted to wear them instead of the armor you got for me… so that people won’t ask questions.  People love stories and I don’t like to even think about these much less talk about them.  You should understand that more than anyone.”

“I wouldn’t be where I am today if I didn’t have you to talk to.  I’m sure I would have lost my mind long ago.  Believe it or not, talking about this shit with someone who gets it really helps you get past it.  These things fester if left too long.  I’m not saying we have to talk about this now, but I want to help you as you have helped me.  We’re free from our prisons, we should at least get to live as if we are.”

She sighs and her hand drops from her shoulder.  She looks down at the ground.  She knows he’s right.  She can see the good it does in his head.  She has longed for a normal, happy life for so long that the very idea of achieving that now is terrifying.  If she moves past her fear and hatred, lets go of everything she lived through, who will she be?  She’s a Kirkwall mage and anyone who hears that knows what it means.  Or they think they do.  No one really knows what went on there.  With so few left after the annulment, those secrets would likely die with the rest of her people.  He had so much guilt already.  Did she really need to add onto it?

“I’m not sure how well this will go… but… I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

She moves around him and sits on the bed.  His eyes follow her.  It dawns on him that she isn’t wearing much.  The tight leggings don’t leave much to the imagination.  She is very thin, but she is full in all the right places.  He mentally slaps himself.  This was not the time to be admiring her curves.  “If we’re doing this, I get to pick which ones I talk about first.”

He uproots his feet from the ground and sits on the bed across from her.  “I can agree to that.”

“Alright then.  Let’s start.”  She quickly stands up off the bed and stands in front of him.  There’s a hint of anger in her voice.  He scoots back and leans against the wall.  She turns her back to him and lifts her shirt.  She then hooks her thumb in the waist band of her leggings and pulls down enough to reveal her the upper part of her ass.  His breath catches in his throat.  In part because he is seeing more of her skin than he ever thought he would, but mainly because of the scar she has just unveiled.  The flaming sword that is the symbol for the templar order is burned into her flesh.  “They branded me.  Like cattle.  Because I’m a mage and I belonged to them.  They wanted me to have a permanent reminder of that.”

He moves to the edge of the bed to get a closer look at it.  His heart sinks.  He knows right away that they used the iron that was used to mark horses that belonged to the order.  In the event that someone stole one, be it a thief or mage, there would be no question as to where they got it.  “Maker’s breath.  I’m so sorry.  That must have hurt like hell.”

“Have you ever smelled your own flesh burning?”  She pulls her leggings back up and lets her shirt fall back down.  “What am I saying?  You have been burned before.  This is different.  Hurts like hell doesn’t even begin to describe the kind of pain something like that causes.”  She turns around to face him.  “And the really fucked up part is that they believed it.  Whole heartedly.  I was just a little, knife-eared mage whose only purpose was to serve.  But I needed to be reminded of my place.  So, before I got branded that night…” she holds out her wrists.  “I got these.  I was bound with rope because I tried to struggle.  I tried get away from them, because I had learned that I didn’t have to submit to that.  That not all templars were like them.  Yet I feared what would happen to me if I reported them.  I won’t go into details of everything I suffered that night.  I’ll spare you that.  You’ve wondered why I’m always so… reserved.  This is why.  I lived in constant fear that they’d come for me again.  Every night, when I got locked in my cell, I feared that they’d come back.  That wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.”

He is utterly dumbfounded.  How could something like that be allowed to happen?  And on more than one occasion?  He knew mages were treated poorly, but this went far beyond that.  Had he truly been so blinded by fear and hate that he let things like this slide?  No.  He is certain if he had known that these men would have been brought to justice.  Even Meredith couldn’t have allowed such things.  Even at his worst, he couldn’t justify treating mages that way.  This had to be an isolated incident.  A single group who had abused her.  He had a hard time believing that corruption and evil had been able to take root so strongly that common decency had been thrown out the window.  Mages were not quiet when it came to being mistreated.  If events like this were wide spread in the Circle, then someone would have said something.  Samson had been kicked out of the Order for less.

She folds her arms over her chest.  She watches various expressions flit across his face.  His eyes stare through her, unblinking and wide.  She gives him a few moments to process the information she has provided him.  Part of her thought he knew, but it is clear now that he had no idea how far the templars had fallen.  He abruptly stands and she takes a few steps back from him.  He paces and runs his fingers through his hair.  His anger and rage is coming off of him in waves.  She didn’t even need to be an empath to feel it.  She turns from him and moves to lean on a little table in the corner.  As she watches him stalk around like a tiger in a cage, she comes to the realization that maybe that wasn’t the best place to start.  All the work she’s just done on his mind as been reversed and if he’s going to sleep tonight she’s going to have to start again. 

The silence is also starting to wear on her.  Her chest tightens and she can hear her heart pounding in her ears.  She squeezes her eyes closed and tries to breathe through the building anxiety.  She pulls the chair away from the table and sits down in it.  She covers her ears with her palms and leans forward to put her head between her knees.  The images of that night come flowing into her mind.  Tears leap from her eyes and her chest tightens further.  Her heart races erratically.  Her head throbs and her body shakes.  Then his hands are on her.  They both hiss in pain.  She has completely lost control of her ability.  Their thoughts collide and his fingers dig into her shoulders.  They are both forced to ride out her memory.  The pain.  The smell.  The shame she felt.  The helplessness.

She manages to push him off her and she scurries away from him.  His back hits the wall and he slides to the floor.  She is sobbing now and shaking all over.  She needs air and distance.  She needs to be alone.  She looks down at him.  He is clearly in shock.  His mouth hangs open and his eyes are wide.  Tears stream down his face.  His breath comes in rapid little huffs.  “This was a mistake.”  She’s out the door before he can recover.  The wind cuts through the thin fabric of her nightclothes and her bare feet instantly begin to freeze as they smack against the frozen ground.  She doesn’t know where she intends to go, but the further she can get from him the better.  She’ll likely freeze to death, but maybe it was time.  She has suffered for so long.  The look on his face enters her mind again.  The horror and anguish of feeling her memory.  It is times like this she almost wishes someone had made her tranquil.  She would have had some semblance of peace if she was.  She wouldn’t have to feel or hear things when someone touched her.  The horrors of her past wouldn’t cause her pain.  She lets out a stuttered breath.  Why hadn’t she asked them to do it?  Why did she fight it?  She’d feel so much better because she wouldn’t feel anything.  Maybe after seeing and feeling a tiny bit of what she suffers, he’ll do it if she asked.  She shakes her head.  He’d never say yes to that.  He needs her magic to survive.  Her mind debates with itself.  Is that what she really wants?  After all this time, does she truly wish for a fate most mages think is worse than death?  Maybe death was the answer.  To climb one of these mountains and fling herself from it.  Or set just set herself on fire.  To burn away her flesh and the evidence of her hardships.

“Alyssa?”  She spins around at the sound of her name.  Solas holds out his hands when he sees the state she is in.  “Alyssa.  I will not touch you.  But if you don’t get inside, you’re going to freeze to death.”  She has the urge to run and keep running.  Her eyes dart around looking for the best way to escape.  Solas takes a single step back.  “I’m not sure what has caused this… state, but if you come with me, I can help you.”  She doesn’t really see him.  Her mind is fixated on fleeing.  On ending her suffering.  She backs slowly from him.  “Alyssa.  Let me help you.”  Her magic flares and she hisses in pain.  She loses complete control of her empathic abilities.  Waves of thoughts and emotions flood her mind.  Everyone who is awake in Haven is shouting at her.  She presses her hands over her ears and falls to her knees.  She struggles to rein it in.  To calm herself enough to lock it down.  She feels a blank spot.  Someone’s mind who is void of thought.  She zeros in on it.  She vaguely hears Solas grunt as she assaults his mind.  He is in control though.  She can feel him focusing on this mental state.  Her magic fades and her mind clears.  She sighs and slumps into the snow.  He kneels beside her as her breathing returns to normal.  “Are you alright?”

She presses up to a seated position and looks into his eyes.  “I am now.  Thank you.”

“Care to explain what just happened?”

She pushes herself out of the snow and shivers.  She hugs herself and rubs her arms.  “That happens from time to time.  Though I’m usually alone when it happens.  I should probably go.”

He holds up his hand.  “Wait.  I need to understand just happened if I’m going to help you control it.”

She looks back at the open door of her cabin.  “I’ll come by tomorrow.  I’m need to rest.”

He nods.  “My door is always open, if you require assistance.”  He turns from her and heads off towards his own cabin.  The violent chill rushes through her and she scampers back to her room.  She bolts the door closed and rushes to the fire.  A blanket is dropped on her shoulders and she jumps.  She spins around to see Cullen.  He holds up his hands.

“I shouldn’t have touched you.  I… I’m sorry.  Maker.  I’m so sorry.”  He sits on her bed as she stares at him.  “Andraste preserve me.  I just wanted to comfort you.  I wasn’t thinking.  I…”  He runs his fingers through his hair.  “I shouldn’t have pressured you.  Please forgive me.  I should have… I don’t know… I… Maker.  Alyssa.  If I had known…”

She pulls her chair in front of the fire and tries to warm her feet.  “Knowing wouldn’t have undone what had already been done.”

“You said it wasn’t the first time.  I had known before then.  Before they…  I could have stopped it.”

She stares down at her frozen toes.  “Cullen… there’s was nothing you could have done.”

“Damn it.  I could have tried!”

She sighs and pulls the blanket tighter around herself.  She can’t stop her erratic mind from thinking about how things were before and after his arrival.  Yes, he was violent and full of hatred, but he had a moral code that he never broke.  He had always been committed to doing his duty even if he had no love or trust for mages.  She dreaded to think of what would have happened to her and other mages if he had never come to Kirkwall.  “You helped us more than you will ever know.”

“I could have… should have… Maker.  How blind was I to think that things weren’t as bad as people said?  Meredith let this happen.  There is no way she didn’t know.”

“You’re right.  She had to know.  We told Orsino.  He said he told her.  And when nothing changed, we kept our own council.  We did our best to protect ourselves without incurring someone’s wrath.  Which wasn’t easy.”

“Is that why mages walked with at least one other mage?”

“But never too many or the templars would think we were conspiring to attack.  Or some such nonsense.  The vast majority of us were too afraid to act.  To speak.  To fight.  A handful of blood mages and one possessed apostate ruined what sliver of peace we had.”

He nods.  “It was more than a handful, but I see your point.”

“Not enough to justify the Rite.”

He looks up at her and watches her stare into the fire.  She was right, of course.  Even he thought the same thing when Meredith had declared it, but he had no choice but to follow.  She would have killed him for his insubordination and then who would have saved Hawke when Meredith turned on her?  He gently touches the scar on his lip.  It is still tender after having it open up again.  The fact that it is nearly healed again thanks to the same mage who healed it originally reminds him that this conversation isn’t about him.  She turns her head towards him when he doesn’t speak right away.  The movement pulls him out of his selfish thoughts.  “I spoke against the Rite.  I’m not sure I ever told you that.”

“I know.”

He chuckles softly.  “Right.  Of course, you do.”

“And your thoughts weren’t selfish.”

“Excuse me?”

She sighs and looks back at the fire.  “I’m sorry.  I’m having… difficulty controlling it right now.”

“Is… that what it’s like?”

“Reading your thoughts?  Yes.  But I’m prepared for it.  Used to it.  When I help you, I welcome it.  It doesn’t hurt as bad that way.”

He scoots to the edge of the bed and leans forward.  “I won’t ask you for help again.”

Her head snaps in his direction.  “What?  Why?”

“I don’t… I can’t put you through that kind of pain.  It’s selfish of me to want that from you.  Even if you offered.  Even if you volunteered.  It’s not right for you to have to feel my pain on top of your own.  I will just have to make due like everyone else.”

She sighs and stands.  “We both know you can’t sleep without me.  Not right now.  Not while you have fresh lyrium in your veins.”

“I will make it work.  I won’t subject…”

“Cullen.  I’m helping until the addiction has passed.  I won’t let you suffer.  There’s no need.”

“But you suffer in the process of…”

She drops the blanket and charges towards him.  “Stop it!  I going help you!  I won’t let my only friend punish himself because I couldn’t control my fucking magic for one fucking night!”  She covers her mouth and backs away from him.  “I’m sorry.”

He stands and takes a few steps towards her.  He watches her regress to the young mage that he pinned against the wall when he first arrived in Kirkwall.  He stops his progress and holds up his hands.  “Alyssa.  You have nothing to apologize for.”  He bends down and picks up the blanket.  He holds it out her.  She carefully takes it from him and wraps it around herself.

“Can we not… talk about this anymore?”

“I don’t…”

“Please just stop.  I’m helping.  You can’t stop me.  I’ll do it with or without your permission, but it’ll be easier if you just let me.  This curse I have may as well be good for something.”  She points to the bed.  “Now lay down.  All of this has completely undone the work we’ve done tonight.”  He backs away from her and sits down on her bed.  She drops the blanket in his lap and sits with her back against the headboard.  She pats her lap and he hesitates.  “Please don’t make me force this on you.”  He bites his tongue and lays his head in her lap.  He stares up at her.  He can see the pain in her eyes and he wants nothing more than to ease it.

She sighs as his thoughts enter her mind.  He watches her bite her lip and then raise her shaking hands.  “Wait.”

“Don’t say it.”

“I won’t fight you under one condition.”

“Cullen, please.  Just don’t.”

“Please just listen.  If you don’t agree, I leave right now.”

She sighs and sets her hands on her knees.  “I don’t like this condition.”

“Tough.  If you have to feel my pain, it’s only fair that I should feel yours.”

She whimpers and he watches tears build in her eyes.  “I don’t know how to control that.  I could hurt you more than I intend to.”

“Then work on it.”

“I could seriously hurt you.  I almost did tonight because I lost control.”  He opens his mouth to protest.  “Fine.  I accept your condition.  I hate it, but I will try.  Not right now though.  Not while I’m not in complete control.  Not when I can’t select the things you’ll see.  Not when forcing my thoughts in your head could damage your mind further.”

“When then?”

“I will let you know.  Now, close your eyes.”  He closes his eyes and she places her cold, trembling hands on his temples.  His mind calms as it always does.  After a period of silence, he feels her press her forehead against his.  Her hair brushes his face and feels himself begin to drift towards sleep.  He fights it and he hears her growl.  “Just go to sleep.  I don’t care that you are in my bed.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“After the episode I just had, I won’t be able to.  Someone might as well get some use out it.”  He knows he is powerless to fight her in this state.  She has complete control over him.  She could force him to go to sleep if she really wanted to.  “You know how I feel about doing things against your will, but if you make me…”

“Alright, alright.  I’ll sleep here then.”

She waits from him to fall asleep and then waits a little longer to see what he is going to dream about.  So, that if she needs to change it, she can.  Fortunately, her secret fear that he will dream about the memory he saw doesn’t rear its ugly head.  Seeing that the dream is mostly harmless, she disconnects herself from his mind.  She gently lifts his head and pushes her pillow beneath it.  She covers him with her blanket and turns away from him.  She can’t bear to look at his peaceful face right now.  Not when her own head is in chaos.  She shoves her shoes on her feet and heads for the door. She grabs her cloak off the hook and wraps it around her.  She slips out the door and closes it quietly behind her.

She doesn’t know where she’s going to go, but she needs distance from him and the new information that is now in his mind.  He knows more about her than she ever wanted him to.  She stops in front of the low burning fire near Varric’s tent.  She looks towards the gate and considers running.  Just leaving everything she owns and walking into the wilderness.  She’d either freeze to death or starve.  But she knows she can’t do that.  He needs her.  His mind would snap without her.

She presses her hands against her ears as she begins to lose control again.  She hisses as the noise gets louder.  It abruptly stops when a warm hand touches her shoulder.  Her eyes snap open and she sees Solas standing in front of her.  His thoughts are calm and warm.  They welcome her with open arms.  She just nods and he takes her hand.  He leads her along the path to his cabin.  The door stands open when they arrive.  She follows him inside and he closes the door behind them.

He motions for her to sit on his bed and she does.  She kicks off her shoes and folds her feet underneath her.  “Still struggling with control?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Care to explain what happened?”  She shakes her head.  He holds out his hand.  “Your cloak?  You may as well be comfortable.”  She wraps it more securely around her.  “If you are concerned about your scars, I should point out I saw them clearly earlier tonight.”

She groans.  “Damn elven eyesight.”

He chuckles and opens and closes his hand.  She slowly unwraps her cloak and places it in his hand.  He folds it over a chair and then sits in it.  “Unlike most people, I will not ask where they came from.  It is not my business.”

“Thank you.”

“Is it safe to assume however that a certain ex-templar did?”  She nods.  “And whatever story you were telling got out of hand?”  She nods.  “And it is also safe to assume that he tried to comfort you in the only way humans know how?”

“Even raised in the Circle, I forget how touchy they can be.”

“Which caused you to lose control.”

“The effect was reversed.”

“I see.  So, he got your memory instead of the other way around?”  She nods.  “Do you mind if I ask which scar spurred this?”

“Not a visible one.”

“Fair enough.”  He crosses his legs and she smirks.  “Something amusing?”

“How they hell do your feet not freeze?”

He chuckles.  “I’m used to it.”

“Mind over matter?”

“In a sense.  Are the voices still shouting at you from afar?”

“Yes, but for some reason they aren’t as loud with you around.”

“I’ve been consulting with a few friends of mine as I said before.  They’ve given me a few pointers on how to effectively block you from my mind even at a distance.  Not that I think you’d intrude on purpose.”

“We’ve established that’s not my style.  It’s not exactly a pleasant experience.  But how are you able to block me?  Earlier you felt like a void.  As if you had no thoughts at all.”

He stands and slowly walks towards her.  Out of habit, she moves away from him.  “Do you trust me?”

“I hardly know you.  And the last time I read your thoughts, you had some… interesting ideas as to what we should do with our time.”

He chuckles.  “I only did that to mess with you.”

“That’s what you wanted me to hear, but I know the truth of your thoughts.”

“Is that so?”

“You know that it is.”

“You have my word that that is not what I intend to do now.”  He sits on the bedside her.  “I want to help you, Alyssa.  This is a hard way to live.  Forced to disconnect from everyone and everything around you.  It must be maddening.”

“Until recently, that wasn’t the hardest part.  But yes.  It can be.”

He motions to the bed.  “Lay down.”  She raises her eyebrow.  “The best way I know how to teach is to take you somewhere that can be controlled by your mind.  You said you were a dreamer.  So, that is going to be the best way for you to learn.  There are no distractions in the fade.”

She laughs loudly.  “I spend my time in the fade actively avoiding the things that live there.  I can’t fight off possession if a spirit or demon touches me.”

“How do you know?  Is that something you’ve experienced?  Or is that something you were told?”

“It didn’t think it wise to test the theory.”

He turns to face her more and then leans against his headboard.  “I ask again.  Do you trust me?”

His hold on whatever is blocking her begins to slip.  She isn’t sure if he can tell.  They aren’t touching so the connection isn’t strong, but she can hear some of his thoughts.  He wants to dream with her.  Help her walk the fade without fear.  To master the control of her own mind the only way he knows how.  His intentions are just that.  He might think she is attractive, but his goals have nothing to do with that.  He is fascinated by her magic.  She shifts slightly on the bed and her knee touches his leg.  The connection sparks in her mind and she gets a crystal clear view of his goals.  Plus a few others things, that she opts to keep to herself.  “Yes.”

“Then lay down next to me.”  She shifts to crawl on her hands and knees to settle in beside him.  She freezes for just a moment when his thoughts shift to watching her figure.  He admires the way her ass curves in her leggings and the little glimpses of soft flesh he can see down the front of her nightshirt.  She closes her eyes to try to push the thoughts out.  “Is everything alright?”

She takes a few deeps breaths before resuming her crawl.  She lays down on her back and stares at the ceiling.  She knows he won’t try anything, but his thoughts take her back to Kirkwall and the things her templar captors thought of her when they touched her.  She shudders and he looks down at her.  She feels walls snap up in his mind and she sighs.  “My apologies.  I’m not sure what you heard, but I assure you…”

“I know.”  He lays down beside her and she closes her eyes as his side presses against hers.  No matter how hard he tries, the longer they touch, the harder it is for him to keep her out.

“Try to sleep.  I will see you in the fade.”  She watches him close his eyes and feel him slip away.  The block he had in place completely falls away as soon as he is asleep.  She focuses on the serenity that fills his mind as he drifts into the fade.  She allows it to fill her and her lids grow heavy.  She lets sleep wash over her and soon she too begins her trip into the fade.


	5. Withdrawal

Chapter 5

When she wakes the next morning, she feels warm and rested.  Her mind is calm and the voices are quiet.  Her trip to the fade was more fruitful than it had ever been.  She still refused to touch a spirit because she feared possession, but she feels like she has a firmer grasp on how to control her powers.  She doesn’t think she can turn them off by any means, but maybe one day.

She shifts slightly and freezes as his thoughts enter her mind.  It dawns on her that she is curled up beside him.  His arms are draped around her.  The thoughts in his mind are sluggish.  He is just beginning to wake, but she has become familiar enough with his mind in the past few weeks that she has no doubt that she is still sleeping beside Solas.

It is a strange feeling waking up in someone’s arms, curled up against them, resting your face on their chest when it’s never happened to you before.  Alyssa can’t bring herself to move, knowing full well that it was her movement that stirred the sleeping elf.  She bites her lips and squeezes her eyes closed.  She feels like crying.  Her mind is quiet, she is having her own thoughts and only a hint of his, all the while being held by him.  It’s almost as if her trip to the fade has given her a lingering taste as to what all this work and experimentation could turn her life into.  Being able to be so close to someone and not read their thoughts.  The feeling doesn’t last long though.

As Solas wakes, so too does his mind.  She hisses as his mind wakes.  The connection of their bodies strengthening the connection to his thoughts.  She trembles in against him unable to move as his thoughts invade hers.  Solas opens his eyes and she feels his mind register her.  At first he is shocked at their closeness, then pleased.  Then he feels her shake and the walls slam up.  She sighs as the connection severs.  He feels like a void again.  But she knows that he feels that way because he is blocking her.  She instantly misses the empty feeling of being held without his mind having to keep her out.

She rolls out from his arms and sits on the edge of the bed.  He shifts behind her and traces a slender finger down her spine.  She shivers at the thought he sends to her.  She looks at him over her shoulder.

“I should really go check on, Cullen.”  He simply touches her again.  It was a strange way to communicate.  Using direct thoughts instead of words.  In fact, it unnerved her that he was using her ability this way.  “Solas.  I can’t stay.”  He pushes her hair behind her pointed ear and she closes her eyes.  His fingers trace along the edge of her ear.  “Please stop.  This is… uncomfortable.”

_“Why?  Because we are having a conversation in your mind and you can’t see any other thoughts besides what I am directing at you?”_

“Yes.”

_“As I said before, you need to practice and you can’t do that alone.”_

She sighs.  “The longer you touch me…”

 _“The harder I must work to keep you out.  I’m aware._ ”

“Maker help you if I were actually trying.”

He chuckles and his fingers trail along her shoulder and down her spine again.  _“I know you said this in the fade last night, but you will only master this is you try to break down these walls.  The stronger you become, the easier it will be to figure out how to turn it off.”_

The touch is slowly becoming less of a means of communication and more caressing.  Her body stiffens as she notices the shift.  She clearly gets the intentional shift from his mind.  Something she is sure he didn’t mean to give her.  “Solas.”

_“I know.  You’re starting to break the walls down.  Time is really the only thing you need in the long run.  Prolonged contact.”_

His fingers leave her and she lets out a huff of air.  The relief of being alone in one’s mind is something many people take for granted.  She quickly stands and distances herself from him.  “How do you feel?”  She looks back at him over her shoulder.  There is a small smile on his face.  “More in control than last night?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel as if you’ve made any progress?”

She turns to face him and shrugs.  “I can’t be sure.  I need to touch someone who hasn’t been training to stand against me.”  She looks towards the door.  He would be waking soon and she needed to be there for him when he did.  “I really need to go.”  He slides off his bed and walks towards the door.  She scoops her cloak off the chair and slides her shoes on.  He opens the door for her and she pauses.  “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

She is careful to slip past him without touching him.  Yet as he closes the door he touches her one last time.  Fingers brushing along her hip.  She stops in her tracks.  She doesn’t want to look at him.  She doesn’t want to respond.  It’s what he wants.  With that thought and touch, she knows that she needs to come to expect it from him.  Tests to her resolve.  Tests to see if she has learned to turn them off.  She pulls her cloak tighter around her as she rushes away from his cabin.  She seems to be the only soul awake at this hour.  The sun is just beginning to break across the horizon.  She can hear his faint chuckle as she descends the stairs.

The snow crunches below her feet as she rushes past the tavern and then Varric’s tent.  The last thing she wants is for Varric to get the wrong idea about her night with Solas.  On top of that, she didn’t need the loud mouthed dwarf to see any of her scars.  She hurries as quickly and quietly as she can back to her cabin.  She slips through the door and leans against it with a sigh.  She hangs her cloak on the hook by the door and kicks off her shoes.

Cullen is still sound asleep on her bed.  He has rolled onto his side with his back to the room.  He looks as if he’s had a restful night’s sleep, but there is only one way to find out.  She walks over to the bed and sits down behind him.  She doesn’t want to disturb him if he’s still sleeping soundly.  She reaches over and gently touches his temple with two fingers.  She closes her eyes and tries her best not to cause him discomfort while she reads his sleeping mind.

His dreams seem pleasant enough.  There’s a peaceful looking lake that she recognizes from his childhood memories.  He sits on a dock tossing rocks into the water.  She smiles and breaks her connection with his mind.  She can tell that he is still in the early stages of his withdrawal though.  His temperature is a little high and sweat has started to bead on his forehead.  She sighs and goes to the table in the corner.  She grabs a piece of cloth from the table and dips it in the pitcher of water.  She goes back to the bed and sits behind him.  She dabs his forehead with the damp cloth.  He moans softly.  She hopes he will sleep longer.  The magic she worked on his brain is still in effect and is keeping him calm while the lyrium slowly fades from his veins.  The longer he sleeps the better.

She dabs the sweat from his forehead with the cloth and slowly stands to cross back to the pitcher of water.  In Kirkwall, no one thought twice about her spending all day in Cullen’s office.  Cassandra had decided to let Cullen should stay in Kirkwall until his withdrawal was under control.  In order to do that, Alyssa had to stay by his side.  Being the Knight-Commander and her being the only circle mage left, no one looked twice at her being his shadow.

But he was famous now.  The Herald of Andraste.  The survivor.  The Commander.  She already had people questioning her motives for being close to him.  No one has outwardly said anything.  But she has picked up on those thoughts during her interactions.  Cassandra is the only one who has actually told her she didn’t trust her.  It was clearly the reputation that Kirkwall mages had to the outside world.  If Cassandra saw the scars on her arms, she wouldn’t let her anywhere near Cullen ever again.

She doesn’t know why she feels the need to care what others think of her.  She has always been a loner, but for some reason she suddenly feels a desire to be liked.  To have friends.  She looks over at the sleeping former templar.  She never considered anyone from the circle her friend.  Not even Orsino, who wasn’t afraid of her abilities, but even he kept his distance.  Maybe this was something she has always wanted, but never knew it.  She turns to lean on the table and crosses her arms.  She watches him sleep and her mind takes her back to the first day she noticed a change in Cullen.

***

_Alyssa walks through the Gallows with her head down.  Her hands are clasped in front of her and her heart races.  It had been sometime since her harrowing, but she is still a young woman no more than 18 or 19.  The qunari in the city have been growing restless and the issues between templars and mages are progressively getting worse.  She hasn’t talked to a single mage or templar in months for fear that they will again accuse her of blood magic.  Now she’s being escorted towards the First Enchanter’s office by the very templars who branded her a few nights earlier.  She doesn’t know if their story is true as they haven’t touched her yet.  She was told to come with them and that Orsino needed to see her, but she feared that this was not their true motivations for taking her away from her cell._

_Much to her relief Orsino is waiting outside his office when they arrive.  He holds out his hand to her and she quickly takes it.  A wave of relief rushes over her as the templars leave and she learns that he had in fact summoned her.  Then she finds out why and instantly releases his hand.  She shakes her head violently.  “No.  Please don’t ask me to do that.”_

_“Alyssa, the Knight-Captain has changed since your harrowing.  He is… a good man.  He tries to treat us fairly, or as fairly as he knows how.  If you spoke to your fellow mages, you would see that things have improved with him around.”_

_She pulls on the ends of her sleeves.  Her wounds had already been inspected by Meredith, but she doubted he would be so easily dissuaded.  The rope burns and seared flesh didn’t help Orsino’s arguments about improvements either.  “What would you have me do?”_

_“Knight-Captain Cullen has been having trouble sleeping.  More so than usual.  He has come to me asking if there is a healer who could help.  After speaking with him, I can say that the things keeping him awake at night are not easily cured by a healer’s spell.  He… has a dark past that he struggles with daily.  If you can help him, he may be convinced to support the mages later if we need him.”_

_“First Enchanter… I really don’t feel comfortable with this.  I’ve… I’ve been inside a templar’s head.  It’s not a good place to be.”_

_“Think of your people, Alyssa.  With Meredith’s laws and our continued subjugation, we need allies however we can get them.  This is a prime opportunity to get a high ranking templar in our pocket.”  She folds her arms over her chest.  One of her sleeves shifts up her arm and Orsino spots one of the rope burns.  “You of all people should want someone to watch over us.  Someone with a moral code.  Unless you enjoy the things being done to you.”_

_She looks down and sees her revealed wrist.  She quickly drops her hands and pulls at her sleeves.  “If this is want I am commanded to do, then I’ll do it.  Though I have no idea what I’m doing.”_

_“Just try.  That is all I ask.”  She nods.  “He’s in his office.  I trust you remember where it is?”  She nods.  “Go then.  Let me know how it goes.”  She turns from him and stalks out into the hallway.  Across the hall, Meredith’s door stands open.  Her chest tightens at the sight of her.  She turns to travel down the hallway and into the main corridor of the templar hall.  She squeezes her eyes closed for a moment as she collects herself.  She is the only mage in the hall and she is surrounded by templars.  She takes a deep breath before she opens her eyes.  She clasps her hands in front of her and turns towards the hallway that contains his office.  Fortunately, it isn’t far from his commander._

_Her anxiety builds as she approaches his door.  Her heart pounds loudly in her ears.  She knows based on the thoughts of Orsino and some of the other mages, even a few templars, that he was not the person she should fear like this.  Yet for some reason, the idea of stepping into his office again makes her want to faint.  She pauses in front of the closed door.  She rubs the front of her neck remembering her last interaction with the Knight-Captain.  She places her palm on the door and braces herself to knock.  She closes her eyes and places three gentle taps on the wood.  She hears a deep groan coming from the office.  It sounds annoyed and pained.  When a voice doesn’t sound to grant her access, she taps again, but softer this time.  She hears a rumbled growl that is more irritation than pain.  She takes a deep breath and steps closer to the door.  She voice is softer than she means it to be.  “Knight-Captain?  The First-Enchanter sent me.”  She can hear the fear in her own voice.  She nibbles on her lip and hopes that he can’t hear it through the door._

_The door flies open and she jumps backwards.  She hisses as her back hits the wall and presses her robes into her burned flesh.  He pinches the bridge of his nose with his armored hand.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to startle you.”  She blinks the tears from her eyes.  The pain in her hip has nearly blinded her.  When her vision clears, she can clearly see the apologetic look on his face.  “Your name is… Alyssa?  Is that correct?”_

_His voice is pained, but kind.  A vast difference from three years before.  Not trusting that her voice won’t betray her pain, she nods.  He takes a few steps backwards before motioning towards a chair in front of his desk.  “Please.  Come in.  Again, I’m sorry for startling you.”  He doesn’t wait for her to accept the invitation.  He turns his back to her and walks to his chair.  His armor clangs loudly as he drops into his chair.  She watches him for a few more moments.  He rubs his temples and rest his elbows on the desk.  Even from this distance she can see the bags under his eyes.  The lines on his face make him look much older than he probably is.  She shoves off the wall and steps into his office.  “Close the door please.”  She takes a deep breath before turning to gently close the door.  “And bolt it.  Unless you don’t feel comfortable being in a locked office with me.”_

_She looks back at him.  He was taking her comfort into consideration?  He isn’t even looking at her.  His eyes are closed and his brow is pulled tight in the center.  The pain he is in is written all over his face.  She swallows hard before sliding the bolt in place.  She walks as softly as her feet will allow on the stone floor and lowers herself into the chair in front of him.  Neither of them speak.  She studies him.  He is slumped forward on his elbows and rubs his temples constantly.  He has a headache and hasn’t slept.  That much was clear.  His curly hair is a mess and his desk is equally messy.  She remembers that his office was perfectly orderly when she was there the last time._

_“Orsino said you needed a healer?”_

_He looks up at her then.  His amber eyes are bloodshot and sullen.  “Yes.  Though I’m not sure what good it will do.”_

_She pulls her registration paper from her pocket and pushes it towards him.  He looks confused, but takes it.  “This doesn’t say that you are a healer.”_

_“I’m not.  At least not yet.  It’s the uh… other thing that he had in mind.”_

_“The empath thing?”  She nods.  “What does that mean exactly?”_

_“It’s… hard to explain simply.  But I guess you could say I can read people’s emotional states and their thoughts by simply touching them.”_

_He straightens in his seat and scoots back.  “What does he have in mind exactly?”_

_She shrugs.  “I suppose he figured I would be more help than a healer.  He seems to think that whatever is keeping you awake isn’t something that can just be healed.”_

_He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.  “I was afraid he might say that.  I’ve been told that many times before.”_

_“So… I’m not entirely sure how to help.  But I will.  If I can.”_

_She leans forward and places her hands palms up on his desk.  His eyes shift from her hands to her face.  She can see the fear in his eyes.  “Does this… frighten you?”  He sneers and she sits back in her chair.  She winces as her hip presses into the chair.  “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have…”_

_He holds his head.  “No.  I’m sorry.  You are just trying understand.  To help me.”  He takes a deep breath and lets it out in a huff.  “What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this office.  Is that clear?”  She nods.  He shakes his head and looks down at his desk.  “I probably shouldn’t admit this out loud.  Especially to a mage, but… I have… a fear of magic.  So to speak.  Particularly unknown magic.  Fire, ice, healing, even some necromantic magics, I can handle.  Blood magic and… whatever it is you do… is foreign and dangerous in my book.”_

_She nods.  “It is not unusual to fear what we do not know.  But I can assure you, my magic will hurt me a lot more than it will hurt you.”_

_“And yet you are still willing to help me?”_

_“As I said, I’m willing if I can.”_

_He swallows hard and leans forward.  “Alright then.  How do we do this?”_

_She leans forward and places her hands palms up on the table.  “First I see what I’m dealing with.  Then formulate a plan.  That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”_

_“And you can read any thought in my head?”_

_“Primarily the ones on the surface.  But I’ve learned that the longer I’m in contact with someone the deeper it goes.”_

_He nods. “Then I should warn you.  The things on my mind are… troubling.”_

_She has to stop herself from chuckling.  He has no idea the thoughts in her head.  The dark places her mind can go.  “I think I can handle it.”_

_He places his armored hands in hers and he watches the pain register instantly on her face.  And he can feel her magic.  It’s subtle, but there is no mistaking it.  Without warning, she jerks her hands away and leans back in her chair.  She body shakes as if she has been shocked.  And to his horror he realizes he is the cause.  “Maker’s breath!  I’m so sorry.  It was instinct.”_

_She grips the arms of the chair and fights to calm her twitching body.  It wasn’t the first time she’s felt this, but she was more open than she normally is.  She let herself be wide open to his thoughts and it hurt far more than the attack would have been.  She was going to have to remember that.  She rubs her face and leans her head on his desk.  “We’re going to have to work on your impulse control, Knight-Captain.”_

_“You’re alright then?”_

_“I’ll recover.”_

_He sighs and leans back in his chair.  “You weren’t… connected for very long.  Did you get anything?”_

_She nods.  “Your nightmares are keeping you from sleeping.  Past demons that haunt you from your time in Kinloch Hold.  When they plague you like this, you fear going to sleep and they give you headaches.  Lyrium helps, but you worry that you’ll forget.  And you don’t want that.  Your past reminds you of what you’re capable of and what you were strong enough to endure when your fellows couldn’t.  It’s part of you.”_

_He blinks at her for a few moments.  “You got all that from a few seconds?”_

_She nods. “You’ve been telling yourself the same things over and over.  It’s in the forefront of your mind.”_

_He holds out his hand.  “I’m curious now.  As to what else you might see.  I will do my best not to shock you again.”_

_She shakes her head.  “This is going to take more than just a causal connection.  Your head is… jumbled.  You can’t and won’t think or talk about the things that bother you.  Talking about them makes them real.  And so…”  She pushes back from the desk and stands.  “I need to prepare.  And so do you.”_

_“What is your plan?”_

_“I need to firmly connect to your mind.  Connect in such a way that I completely lose myself to the mercy of your mind.  So much so that you will probably have to shock me in order to get me to stop.  I also need to do a few readings on certain healing practices before attempting this.”_

_“Is this dangerous?”_

_“To me more than you.  This first time will be the worst.  Once I fully understand what we’re dealing with, then we’ll go slower and I won’t have to go as deep.”_

_“How do you know all this?”_

_She shrugs.  “Honestly, I don’t.  This is… new territory.  I’ve never used it this way.  Everything I get is by accident.  I have trained with Orsino as best I can, but this power is rare.  At least, that is my understanding.  Trial and error is really the only way I can learn.”_

_“I supposed this will require a lot of trust on both of our parts.”_

_“Again.  More for me than you.  Because if I’m honest, I’m worried about what this will do to me.  Again, I’ve never done something like this before.  I’m afraid you’ll kill me.”_

_“I will try not to.”_

_“And I will try not to break your mind further.  You should probably be a little more comfortable when we do this.  If this works, you’ll probably pass out right after.”_

_He rubs his neck and looks away from her.  “I… here.”  He picks up his quill and dips it in ink.  He scribbles something on a piece of paper and holds it out to her.  “These are the directions to my quarters.  That is classified information as I’m sure you are aware.  This is a big move of trust on my part.”  She takes the page and studies it.  She nods and hands it back to him.  “Meet me there after dark.  I will… be out of armor.  Another big move of trust on my part.  I hope I don’t regret it.”_

_“What do I do if someone sees me?  Just going there is a big trust move for me.”_

_“That’s the back way.  As long as you are quiet, you won’t be seen.”_

_She nods.  “I will see you tonight then.”  He expects her to leave at that, but she just stands there._

_“Something wrong?”_

_She toys with the hem of her sleeve.  “I… uh… not wrong, no.  It’s just… you haven’t… given me permission to leave.”_

_He chuckles softly.  “Oh.  Well.  I think we’re a little past that don’t you?”_

_“You are still my… superior.”_

_“Alright.  If it makes you feel better, you may go.”_

_She nods and leaves his office.  He leans back in his chair after she closes the door.  She was a strange mage.  He could see that there was a fire in her that she probably didn’t even know she possessed.  He knows that she fears templars, that she probably has good reason for fearing them, and that she has been threatened with tranquility on more than one occasion.  He looks down at his desk and jumps out of his chair.  Sitting right where she handed it to him is her registration paperwork.  He snatches it off the table and rushes to his door.  He doesn’t see her in the hallway and instantly fears that someone will ask her for it before he can find her.  He doesn’t need that on his conscious.  So for the first time all day, he leaves his office.  His head throbs as his feet hammer into the stone floor._

_He doesn’t want to bring unnecessary attention to himself or to her.  She will get in serious trouble if she is caught without it and he doesn’t want the others to see him in this state.  Weakened and suffering.  He is the second-in-command and needed to look like he was totally in control at all times.  He spots her walking swiftly through the main hall.  He wants to call her name, but that would draw attention to both of them.  He picks up his speed and walks with purpose through the hall.  He finally catches up to her as she clears the gate.  “Alyssa.”_

_She freezes at being addressed by the winded templar.  She slowly turns and squeezes her hands together in an attempt to hide her fear.  He motions for her to follow him.  She walks with him down the stairs towards the Gallows.  “You left something in my office.”_

_“Did I?”  He looks around before handing her the paper.  She snatches it from him and shoves it in her pocket.  “Maker.  Thank you.”_

_“I won’t have it be my fault that you are punished for me not returning something I asked for.”_

_She nods.  “Technically, you didn’t. Still.  You rushed to get it back to me when you didn’t have to.”_

_“I hope that goes a long way to getting you to trust me.”_

_She sticks her hand in her pocket and fiddles with the paper.  “It’s a start.”_

_He nods.  “A start.  That will have to do.”  He turns back towards the main hall.  “I will see you tonight.”_

_She watches him stalk away.  The pain in his head weighs him down, she saw it in his head and she sees it now.  He rushed to save her from a world of pain, the least she could do was return the favor.  She heads towards the Gallows to gather what she will need to the night._

_When she taps on his door later that night, her heart races.  She could be caught at any moment and if she was caught near the templar sleeping quarters she was utterly screwed.  It was forbidden for mages to be out at night at all, much less sneaking around the private rooms of templars.  His door opens and she slips inside.  She leans against the wall next to the door as he closes it.  Her eyes are closed as she tries to calm her racing heart.  He slides the bolt into place and leaves to her to gather herself.  He sits down on his bed and rubs his temples.  Lack of sleep and being plagued by tortured thoughts all day really takes it out of you.  And when nothing seems to help dull the pain, he drinks.  But not tonight.  Tonight he wants a clear head, or as clear a head as he can get.  If she’s going to be in his mind, digging around, and seeing his darkest thoughts, he couldn’t have the fog of alcohol._

_He hears her soft footsteps approaching him.  He feels uneasy being in the same room as a mage without his armor.  The feeling is only highlighted by the fact that he is only wearing a loose shirt and pants.  He looks up at her and she stops walking.  She is clearly as nervous as he is.  “So, I brushed up on some healing magic that might help, but to be completely honest, this is uncharted territory for me.”_

_“I understand.  What do you need from me?”_

_She nibbles on her lip and moves towards him.  “Um… this is going to take a while.  So… lay back and get comfortable.”  He takes a deep breath and lays down on his bed.  She sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to touch him.  “I… uh… I need one thing from you while this is happening.”_

_“Alright.”_

_“I need you to fight your urge to resist.  Relax as best you can and trust that I will not hurt you.  Because if you don’t, you will hurt me.”_

_“I will do the best I can.”_

_She nods.  “Sit up a little bit.  I’m… going to sit behind you.”_

_He sits up and watches her move his pillow to the side and kneel on the bed behind him.  This all feels really intimate, but he knows that she wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t feel that she needed to.  “And uh… lay your head in my lap and we’ll begin.”_

_“And you think this will work?”_

_“It’s not an instant fix.  It will be a process.  But yes.  I do.”  He lays back and rests his head on her thighs.  His thoughts enter her head right away.  He is afraid, anxious, and in pain.  “Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.  I will not hurt you.”  He looks up into her large emerald eyes.  She is clearly just as nervous as he is, but there is a confidence in her eyes.  He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing.  She rubs her hands together and gently places them on his temples.  She inhales sharply and closes her eyes.  So far, he can’t feel her magic, but based on their earlier interaction he knows it is active.  “Knight-Captain…”_

_“Cullen.  Please.”_

_“Cullen.  Focus on staying calm.  Focus on your breathing.  Analyzing everything I’m doing will only add to your anxiety.”_

_“Again.  I will try.”_

_She waits from him to adjust to the contact.  Then she gets to work.  He inhales as her magic starts to flow into his head.  She tenses when she feels his fear, but immediately feels him attempt to lock it down.  She explores his mind looking for the source of his headache.  When she finds it, she sighs.  “Tell me about Kinloch Hold.”_

_“I… I can’t.”_

_“Cullen.  It was real.  Pretending it wasn’t is only adding to your anxiety.  You need to face it.  I know that’s is easier said than done, but it’s important.  Maybe we can start with something easier.”  She searches deeper into his mind.  “Tell me about your family.”_

_She prompts him to speak and it helps her navigate his thoughts.  He has no idea how long they stay like that, but the longer she works on him the better he feels.  He doesn’t even know if it’s her magic or just talking openly to someone about his past.  Maybe a mix of the two.  Hours pass and he feels himself relax more than he has in years.  He is startled suddenly when he feels something soft brush against his face.  It takes him a moment to realize it’s her hair.  “Are you alright?”  When she doesn’t answer, he attempts to move and her grip on his head tightens.  “Alyssa?”_

_“Don’t move.”_

_“Are you alright?”_

_“Fine.  Just tired.”_

_“Should we stop then?”_

_Her breath hits his face in a huff.  “I… can’t.”_

_“Can’t?”_

_“I don’t have the energy to stop.”_

_“What do you need from me?”_

_“I don’t know.”  He can feel her shaking.  He can feel her magic weakening.  He needs to disconnect her, but he is hesitant to hurt her.  “That might work.  I can’t do it on my own.”_

_So, he does.  He uses the same trick he did earlier in the day and her hands fly off his head and she falls backwards.  He catches her before she falls into the floor.  Her body twitches and the guilt of causing her pain fills him.  She needs lyrium and he knows it.  “I’ll be right back.”  He leaves her laying on his bed and goes to fetch a vial for her.  When he returns, she is sitting up on his bed, running her fingers through her hair.  He holds out the vial and she takes it.  He sits next to her and waits for her to recover._

_She looks over at him.  “How do you feel?”_

_“The headache is gone.  I… think you’re right.  This will take time, but I think I can learn to live with this.”_

_“That’s good.”_

_“How do you feel?”_

_“I’ll recover.  I appreciate the concern.”  She slowly stands.  “I should head back.”_

_He nods.  “If you think you can make it.”  He stands up and grabs a piece of paper.  He dips a quill in some ink and scribbles a quick note.  He hands it to her.  “Here.  This will save you from getting in trouble for being out of the circle after dark.”  She takes it and nods._

_“Thank you.  We… uh… should probably only do this when you have days like today.”_

_“Agreed.  I’ll work on making the arrangements as to not cause you any trouble.  You’ve helped me more than I ever thought possible.  And I hope to do the same for you.”_

_She nods and goes to the door.  He follows behind her.  She unbolts the lock and pulls it open.  She still seems a little shaky, a little unsteady on her feet.  “Are you sure you are alright?”_

_“I’m fine. As I said, I’m just tired.”_

_He nods.  “Well… have a good night.”_

_“You too.”  She slips out the door and does her best to sneak back to the Gallows unnoticed._

***

She returns her attention to her sleeping friend.  They had come a long way since that first day.  She’s known him for ten years now.  The first three she spent actively avoiding him whenever possible.  To go from that to being his closest friend and him being hers in such a short amount of time is still mind boggling.  Yet the past few weeks have made it painfully obvious that the friendship was lopsided.  He trusted her far more than she trusted him.  She would need to work on that.  And with the agreement she made with him, she would have to get comfortable opening up to him fast.

Movement on the bed breaks her out of her own mind and back into the room.  She grabs the cloth, dips it in the water, and cradles it as she crosses to the bed.  He rolls onto his back when he feels her sit.  Before his eyes even open, he feels water drip onto his parched lips.  He opens his mouth and gladly accepts the cool drops.  Then the damp cloth presses against his forehead.  He is sore all over and he feels like he is on fire.  She sighs when he moans.  It’s starting.  They had barely made it back from the Hinterlands.  If he had waited just a hair longer, they would be dealing with this one the road.  She dabs the sweat from his forehead.  It had taken her a long time to stop being afraid of the sturdy templar and now for the second time she was tasked with taking care of him as the lack of lyrium ravaged his body.  It actually breaks her heart to see him this way.

He rolls towards her.  “Aly?”

“Shh.  Just rest.”  She pushes his hair back to gain better access to his forehead.  She rushes to the junk corner and grabs a bucket.  He rolls to the edge of the bed just as she gets back to him.  She rubs his back and he heaves into it.  She holds the bucket to his face and sits down beside him.  When he finishes, he rolls onto his back.  She sets the bucket on the floor and presses the cloth against his face.

“I thought I was done with this.”

“I know.  I’m sorry.”

He tries to sit up and she pushes him back down.  “I don’t think so.  You are staying right where you are.”

“I have so much work to do.”

“Your men will be fine.  The Inquisition can manage without you.”

“I’m the Herald of Andraste.  I am the Inquisition.”

“And you are more useful alive than dead.  Now, stay where you are.”  She stands up and he reaches for her.

“You aren’t leaving are you?”

She sighs and looks down at him.  She takes his hand but remains standing.  “I will return in a few minutes.  I need to gather somethings and let Cassandra know what’s happening.”

“Have someone fetch them for you.  Stay here.”

A small smile breaks across her face.  “You are a horrible patient sometimes.  I hope you know that.”  She picks up the cloth and moves towards the pitcher.  He doesn’t let go of her hand and prevents her from going.  “Cullen.”

He sighs and lets go of her hand.  She dips the cloth and turns back to the bed.  She stops and then grabs the table.  She drags it across the room so that it is closer to the bed.  He smirks and closes his eyes.  She wrings out the cloth and places it on his forehead.  As the sun starts to stream into the window, she knows people will start looking for him and requiring him to go to meetings and training sessions.  “Cullen.  I really need to…”

“I know.  I’m just being needy.”

“I will be right back.   I promise.”

“Go then.  I’ll be waiting.”

She shakes her head and goes towards the door.  She wraps her cloak around her shoulders and slips on her shoes.  She pulls the cloak as tight around her as she can to prevent anyone from seeing her skin.  She needs elfroot and embrium.  She needs to clear her cabin of lyrium.  She needs water for drinking and water for cleaning.  She needs clothes for him and a food stash.  She mentally kicks herself for not prepping for this sooner.  She nods towards Varric as she rushes toward the gates.  He waves but doesn’t stop her to talk.  She heads directly to Cassandra, who is already swinging away at the training dummy.  “Hey.  Cassandra.”

Cassandra stops mid-swing to look to look over at her.  “What is it?”

“It’s started.”

She sets her sword down.  “Where is he?”

“I had a session with him last night and so he’s already in my cabin.”

“How bad is it?”

“It hit him hard and fast.  And naturally he’s being a needy patient.”

Cassandra chuckles and nods.  “I’ll let the others know that he is ill.  I’m assuming you will need the same supplies as last time?”

“Yes.”

“I will see to it.  Just take care of him.”

“You know he won’t want anyone to know how bad it is.”

“I know.  I’ll do what I can to make sure he is undisturbed.”

“Thank you.”  The women part ways without another word.  Alyssa ducks into Cullen’s tent and begins digging through his trunk looking for clothes he can change into when the ones he is wearing become too dirty.  The sound on someone coming in startles her.  Rylen holds up his hands and she quickly hugs the cloak firmly around her. 

“Sorry.  I was expecting Commander Cullen.”

“He’s… not feeling well.”

Rylen nods.  “Ah, so he’s going through it again.  Understood.  I’ll tend to his duties until he’s well again.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“I’ll leave you to gather what you need.”

He grabs a few reports from Cullen’s desk and heads back out of the tent.  She has no doubt that he saw her arms.  Since he still considers himself a templar, she has a feeling this decision not to make sure she is absolutely covered will come to bite her in the ass sooner or later.  She turns back to the trunk and gathers some of his clothes.  Trusting that Cassandra will in fact bring her everything she needs, she opts just to go back to her cabin.  On her way back, she finds Solas waiting for her at the gates.  “I’m sorry I’m going to have to postpone our lessons for a while.”

“Is something wrong?”

She shakes her head.  “Not wrong, just time consuming.”

“Is there anything I can go to help?”

“No.  It’ll be fine.  Nothing I can’t handle.”  He reaches up and pushes her hair behind her ears.  She blushes and looks away.  “Yes, I know.  But I promise.  I’m fine.”

“You know where to find me.”  He turns to walk back up the path.  Her ears burn bright red as she sees that Varric has seen the whole exchange.  She ducks her head and hugs the bundle to her chest as she hurries back to her cabin.  She kicks the door closed behind her.  She drops the bundle on a barrel, hangs her cloak by the door, and kicks off her shoes.  Cullen has rolled to the edge of the bed and has his head hanging over the side over the bucket.  She sits down next to him and scoops the cloth off the bed.  She gets it wet and presses it on the back of his neck.

“I’m back.”

“Maker bless you.”  His voice is soft and creaky from vomiting. 

“Cassandra will be bringing me supplies and Rylen will tend to your duties.”

“You saw Rylen?”

“Shh.  You don’t need to speak, I know it hurts.  But yes.  He saw movement at your tent and thought it was you.  I didn’t know you told him.”  He slowly turns his head to direct a single bloodshot eye in her direction.  She chuckles.  “I don’t know how I missed it either.”  He groans loudly at the knock and presses his palms into his ears.  She quickly slides off the bed and swings the door open.  Cassandra quickly slips in with a large wooden box in her arms.  She open her mouth to speak, but Alyssa presses her finger to her lips and offers her hand.  Cassandra sneers at it but stick out her elbow.  Alyssa barely touches her. She brushes past the thoughts of concern and discomfort at the magical interaction.  A few things have become clear to Cassandra since she met the mage in Kirkwall.  She likely saved Cullen’s life, thus why he kept her around like some kind of pet.  Anytime the elf casual touched her then, it was to read her mind and she disliked the invasion of privacy, which is just another thing on the list of reason why Cassandra didn’t trust her.  Yet she knew the elf’s importance to him and would keep her opinions to herself where he was concerned.  The amount of respect and admiration the Seeker had for the former Templar only grew with each passing day, watching him play solider and savior, commanding his troops with an ease of someone with far more experience than anyone thought he had and the while saving innocent lives closing rifts.  She thinks that he might actually have been chosen by Andraste to save them and given his hardships, she could see no one better.  After all that, Alyssa receives the question.  _“Is he alright?  He looks worse than last time.”_

Alyssa steps in close to whisper into the Seeker’s ear.  “He will be.  It hit hard and faster than last time.”

 _“I can see that.”_ Communicating with someone untrained like this is difficult.  Not nearly as efficient as her previous interaction with Solas.  She had to wade through the unfiltered reactions and the undercurrent of other thoughts to get to the heart of it.  What she really wanted to say, but couldn’t because it would cause him pain.  She drops her hand and lets Cassandra proceed into the room, which her mind has told her she wants to do.  She also got the feeling Cassandra wanted to be alone with him, but she refused to leave.  There was no way Alyssa was doing to leave him in this state longer than she had to.  She watches from a distance as Cassandra sets the box quietly next to the table and then lowers herself to perch next to him on the bed.  The feeling that overwhelms her is utterly foreign to her but she has left it in the minds of others so often that she knows instantly what it is.

Cassandra dips the cloth in the pitch and places her hand on his jaw to turn his head enough to spill a few drops of water into his perched mouth.  Alyssa’s ears burn and her expression sours.  Jealousy.  It had nothing to do with Cassandra per se, but that simple act of touch him in a comforting way and not having to feel his concern about your wellbeing when he knows the contact causes you pain.  Jealousy that stems from her growing desire to be normal.  Particularly when she knows, but doesn’t acknowledge his evolving feelings towards her.  Feeling them in his mind doesn’t help matters.  And she realizes as she watches the soft touches and hushed whispers that she might be starting to develop them too.  Problem is her is never certain if the feelings are her own or a side effect from being so connected to him.  She sometimes found that his anger would rub off on her when she was around him too much when he was in a mood.  So, she had assumed the shift in her feelings for him were similar.  But this jealousy.  That was new.  She had never gotten that from him, so this had to be hers.  Or maybe it was Cassandra’s linger influence.  She reaches up to rub her temples in an attempt to clear her head.  He needed to her to be clear and selfless right now.  She simple had to resist the urge to snatch Cassandra’s hand from his face.

His sound of agony and Cassandra’s movement, breaks her from her inward thoughts and sends her flying off the door.  Her magic engulfs him before she ever reaches his side.  Cassandra dismisses herself with only a word of concern towards Cullen.  He reaches for her, relishing in the feel of her healing magic around him.  She places her hand in his as she slides onto the bed beside him.  “I know it hurts.”  He squeezes her hand.  Grateful that she doesn’t force him to explain his pain as most healers would.  “Shh.  I know.  Focus on your breathing.  And I’m not going anywhere.”

Relief and gratitude in equal measure flood her mind.  It’s more than just her abilities, what she can do to lessen this pain he feels and the horrors the lack of lyrium starts to bring to his mind.  The fear that this time it will either kill him or drive him mad.  It isn’t even that he can fully fall apart with her, not hide his pain and anguish, but let it wash over him knowing she will be there to support him.  It’s her.  Her closeness, her concern, her scent, even the feel of her magic.  He needs her far more than he could ever say, yet he knows she knows.  He’d be lost without her.  His mind starts to fixate on all the ways he would have died or gone mad without her.

She pushes her magic through his body.  Relaxing his tense muscles as she goes until she finally reaches his mind and cleanses as if she were splashing cool spring water over it.  The sensation of cool water sends his mind towards thoughts of that lake in Ferelden.  Of sticking his fingers into the water, even when winter dictated it was far too cold to be going so.  Happy memories begin to surface, though they are still blurred by pain, they calm him.  She can already feel her fatigue starting to set in.  If only she hadn’t had a break down last night, then she’d be more suited to care for him.

Hot fingers on her cheek force her to open her eyes.  “Don’t blame yourself for that.”

She inhales sharply.  “You heard that?”

“You didn’t say it out loud?”

She shakes her head.  “I’m sorry.  I should be more careful.”

Her magic backs off slightly and he squeezes her hand.  “No don’t.  I…”  It’s too late though.  Her thoughts are gone from his head and he is surrounded by his own.  It was only a blip, but it felt like he was getting a taste of what her life was like.  Hearing the random and fleeting thoughts of those around her.  But more importantly, hearing her thoughts distracted him from his own, made the pain fair less than it had been.  She sighs.  “I can’t do that.  I won’t.  I could hurt you as I clearly have no control over it and I have no happy memories to speak of.”  She feels his mind protest before his mouth can express the words.  “No.  This isn’t up for debate.  Now, sleep.  You need it.”  She doesn’t wait for him to do it voluntarily.  She casts her magic over him and his eyes close the same time his mind thinks to stop her.  He lays slack and gently snoring on the bed while sweat continues to pour from him.


	6. Sleep

Days of pain and sleep with very little food, blend together for Cullen.  He has no way of knowing how long it’s been since this sickness kicked in.  So, he’s a little disoriented when he wakes up without a fever and only a lingering soreness all over his body.  He rolls onto his back and rubs one eye.  The room is dark, almost unnaturally so, when he opens his eyes.  He goes to sit up but finds that his left arm is pinned to the bed.  He glances over and realizes just why it is so dark.  Something heavy is completely covering his left hand, choking off the green glow that he has started to become accustomed to, despite the magic still making his skin crawl and the pain it causes.  Once more he finds himself jealous of elven eyesight, being able to see so clearly at night.  He shifts in an attempt to free his arm and an annoyed groan fills the air.  He realizes the weight on his arm is warm.  His mind attempts to process this.  He woke up on his side, his arm is pinned under something, likely someone based on the groan, a familiar groan.  He inhales sharply.  Maker’s breath, it was her.  Had he been… cuddling with her?!

“Would you stop thinking so loud?  I’m trying to sleep.”

He chuckles.  “In the words of a dear friend, it doesn’t work that way.”

She lifts her head and looks back at him over her shoulder.  Her body is still curved around his arm blocking the light.  He wishes he could see her expression.  She groans loudly and sits up.  Green light fills the room and he actually has to squint to see her.  She quickly runs her fingers through her hair before shifting forward to crawl down to the foot of the bed.  He props himself up on his elbows to look down at her.  She looks exhausted and her knees are being hugged to her chest the way she does to avoid being touched.  “How long was it this time?”

She yawns and covers her mouth.  “I don’t know.  A few days?  I’ve been holed up in here with you, rushing outside to chug… and then coming back in here.  I’ve used my magic to block all light from coming in.  You had a severe sensitivity this time.  Thus my sleeping on your mark.”

“Oh.  Thanks for that.”  He sits up fully and turns to rest his feet on the floor.  He looks down at his stained shirt and sneers.  He feels disgusting now that he’s really assessing himself.  The room smells of sick and sweat.  He can hear the hum of magic in the room and feel it in his hand.  This tells him he is not done with his withdrawal by a long shot, but this worst is over, at least for now.  He can get back out on the road and start closing rifts again.  He should definitely bring her with him though as there is no telling when he’ll have a bad night.  Thinking about her and her dedication to his well-being makes him look over at her.  She is slumped to the side, still holding her legs, her face pressed to the wall.  Her mouth hangs open slightly and her eyes shift rapidly behind her lids.  He’s never seen someone fall asleep so quickly.  No one except her after she’s been working her magic 24/7 to keep him alive.  He turns and touches her hand.  When she doesn’t stir, he knows she’s out like a light.  He shifts to kneel on the bed.  He scoops up the tiny elven woman and lays her down on the bed.  Covering her with the sweat stained blanket, knowing that it probably wasn’t sanitary, but she likely didn’t care at this moment.  He then shifts his sore muscles to stand fully.  He’s still very weak and probably shouldn’t be walking anywhere, but the bed is small and if he wants her to rest undisturbed, he knows he should leave.

He feels her magic activate.  He spins around she’s pointing at him.  “Lay down of your own accord, Commander Herald of Andraste, or I’ll knock you out and you’ll end up sleeping on the floor.”

“How did you…?”

“I wasn’t as out as you thought.  It just took be a bit to get back form the fade.  Now, lay down.  You are right.  You shouldn’t be walking around yet.”  He sits down on the bed and she shifts over to hug the wall.  “And if you’re going to be awake while you lay there, at least press your hand to your chest or something.  I can’t sleep with that thing glowing.”  He nods.  He lays down on his back and shoves his hand in his arm pit.  Her back is pressed against his side and he knows whatever is going on in his mind is flooding her way.  She shrugs.  “I’m used to your thoughts.  They don’t keep me awake anymore.  I’m more concerned with this new connection we seem to have.  I worry what thoughts are going to leak from my mind.”

“It’s only fair after all this time I think.  I am more than willing to share your thoughts as you have shared mine.”

She scoffs and stifles a yawn.  “You say that now, but I’ve got memories far darker than yours lurking up here.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

She flops around until she is facing him fully.  She presses her palms into the mattress and pushes up to peer down at him.  His eyes have adjusted some to the darkness so he can see the serious expression on her face.  “Promise me that you will wake me if stuff starts to be forced into your head.  I’ve said this so many times now, but I want to be able to control what I send you.  You’re an important man, people need you… rely on you and I’m sure all this effort to keep me alive and not tranquil will be in vein if I break your brain.  Willing or not.”

“You’re really afraid that’s going to happen aren’t you?”

She sighs and slowly lowers herself back onto the bed, curling up in a little ball as far from him as she can get.  “You seem to forget that I’ve seen what you’ve lived through and how close you truly were to breaking in the tower.”  She feels him shudder beside her.  She knows he hates to be reminded of that, but this is the only way to get her point across.  “The things I have endured throughout my life… I have few happy memories, Cullen.  Should you get the worst ones all at once…? Kinloch will look like walk in the park.”

“You know my mind better than most.  So, if you say that it would break me, I suppose I should believe you.  Though I feel you aren’t giving me enough credit.” 

She sighs and her fatigue begins to sour her attitude.  Lying beside him though, she can feel his own frustration with her refusal to trust him.  “It’s not that I don’t trust you… it’s… it’s that I don’t trust myself.”  He looks over at her.  She sighs and attempts to press herself closer to the wall in an attempt to create some physical distance between them.  He keeps trying to protest and he wants to promise her that he’ll wake her, but his mind betrays him.  He has no intention of waking her should he start receiving her thoughts.  He is far too curious about this dark past and the things he never saw or was too blind to see, her true suffering in Kirkwall.  He knew he was being selfish in this, but he knew he’d be lying if he agreed.  She grumbles under her breath and flops again to turn her back to him.  She does her best to press herself flat against the wall.  He catches on to what she is attempted to do and shifts closer to the edge of the bed.  He can see the relief of being disconnected from him in her body language.  Moments later, she passes out.

He watches her for a while.  Recalling that she is a light sleeper from the times she slept on the floor of his tent.  Then it occurs to him that she claimed to have nightmares, but he never saw any evidence of that during his own sleepless nights.  Maybe the difference was that she was a dreamer and her nightmares resided so deep in the fade that her outward appearance wouldn’t be impacted.  As he watches her sleep, he begins to be tempted to touch her.  Just for a moment to see if he can observe her dreams without her detecting him.  But he knew he’d have to completely empty his mind and that was easier said than done.  He turns his head to stare up at the ceiling.  His body might be tired, but his mind raced.  The song is still fairly strong and he imagines it’ll always be there now that the mark is on his palm.  Thinking of it makes him want to look at it.  But it’s bright and she has already said that the light keeps her awake.  He looks over at her and decides that she looks completely out.  He slides his hand from his arm pit and blinks as his eyes adjust to the additional light.

Getting past the brightness, the actual skin looked slashed open.  As if an enchanted, serrated dagger had been dragged across his palm.  Yet the edges seemed more like a burn to him, shiny and inflamed.  He is hesitant to actually touch it as he doesn’t fully understand it and the magic tied to it.  Magic that still unnerves him since he has no idea what caused it to be there and by whom.  He highly doubted it was something he’d ever volunteer for given his history.  It can’t be anything good either if it is so closely tied to the deaths of so many.  He thought the demolition of Kirkwall’s Chantry had been bad, but seeing the aftermath of the temple, Kirkwall was nothing.

And once again his mind returns to the woman beside him.  If he had perished with the rest of them, what would have happened to her?  It was a thought he had more times than he cared to admit.  She knew, of course, but it was not something he could express.  He didn’t have answers that would make him feel any better about it.  He knows if he had died during the Qunari invasion that she would have died or been made tranquil long before Meredith lost her mind.  Had he died during the explosion or the battle that raged after that, she’d be dead along with every other mage in Kirkwall.  Rylen saw the aftermath of all that and he felt the same way.  A great many more lives would have been lost if he had not been there to challenge the Knight-Commander.  Of all the mages he’s known, Alyssa is the one mage he’d be sad to loose.  It wasn’t just what she had done for him, despite her obvious fear of him in the beginning, but she is his example.  The living embodiment of the suffering mages have experienced.  He fully credits her for his change of heart towards mages, not magic per se, just that he shouldn’t hate the sinner for a sin they had no say in committing.  Blood mages he felt completely justified in hating since they chose that path, but mages like Alyssa?  He knows if she could have chosen to have this power of hers taken away without cutting her off from the fade, she would have.

She stirs beside him, pushing away from the wall ever so slightly.  She is still asleep, but tiny sounds escape her parted lips.  He reaches out to her instinctually, thinking she’s having a nightmare, but his hand stop just shy of actually touching her.  Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare, but sound sleep.  The sounds didn’t sound frightened.  If this were just normal sleep, no nightmares, no minds disturbing her, then who was he to bother her?  He shoves both hands into his arm pits and stares at the ceiling.  He might not know what a nightmare looked like to her, but if they were as often as she claimed then he knew that this position was much more relaxed.  He sighs audibly, feeling both bored and honored at the same time.  She trusted him more than she let on.  Her guard is completely down right now.  She’s still likely a light sleeper, those things are harder to change, but he likes the idea that him being beside her as she sleeps is the reason for this change.

He glances over at her again.  She is half rolled towards him now.  Her arm thrown over her face, her mouth hanging open wider than it was before.  Their sides are so close to touching that he considers rolling out of the bed to prevent her ability from waking her.

Feeling him shift, she groans.  The arm over her face slapping his arm as her nails grip his shirt.  He chuckles and she groans.  She flops back onto her side, apparently happy with whatever she saw in his head.  He rolls onto his side to face her, but backs up as close to the edge of the bed as he can get.  He wasn’t tired in the slightest, but she clearly was.  He reaches out and brushes his fingers along her exposed arm.  She groans at his thoughts then slowly sprawls out in the open space he has created. 

It occurs to him that he’s never purposefully communicated with her that way.  Telling her she had more room to spread out by touching her instead of telling her.  And it was more that he was thinking of the space between them.  A brief flash of an image in her direction.  He watches her gradually slip back into that restful, solid sleep.  He supposes he should feel uncomfortable watching her sleep, but it’s oddly comforting.  From what he knows of her life, this might be the first time she’s really slept in its entirety. And again he is filled with a sense of pride that he could provide her with this experience.  Though it’s probably not his doing in that she’s really worn herself out treating him, but still.  Life in Kirkwall was a nightmare for her and he has never seen her sleep like this in their time traveling together since then.  He wonders if she gets the same sense of pride when she sees him sleep like that.  She should as she is the only reason he has had a restful night sleep since they met. 

He glances up towards the pitch black window.  He wonders what time it really is.  He feels far better than he has and knows that there is a list kilometers long of things her needs to do.  Her magic prevents him from seeing the world outside.  He’d have to get up in order to find out and there is no way she’s going to let him do that.  So, he spends the next few hours watching her sleep and making a mental list of the duties he has neglected.

***

Her mind wakes before her body can catch up.  The first thing that registers in silence.  She is alone with her thoughts.  Which haven’t really isn’t much in these blissful seconds.  This moment when you first wake up and the troubles of the world haven’t come crashing down on your head yet.  These moments are precious to her since they’ve happened so rarely.  She takes in a slow, deep breath and lets it out just as slow.  A small sigh escaping her lips.  Her whole body freezes as the next thing she feels is someone brushing the hair from her face and pushing it behind her pointed ear.  She eyes snap open and he smiles.  “Good morning, da’len.”

She is surprised and stunned by this turn of events.  When she fell asleep, Cullen was in her bed.  And now…. “You are not who I was expecting.”

He trails his fingers along her jaw.  “I know.  But I doubt the Commander could meet you like this.”  She looks down finds that their bodies of tangled around each other.  Her brows furrow and she looks back at him.  “Notice anything?”

“Other than how uncomfortable this makes me?”  He simply nods in response.  She rolls her eyes and tries to think of what he could possibly be talking about.  All the while, his long slender fingers dance along her jaw and the ridges of her ear.  She inhales sharply as the recognition comes swiftly.  She can’t read him.  No.  It was more than that.  She couldn’t sense him at all.  He isn’t blocking her and the amount of prolonged physical contact is having no effect.  Tears spring from her eyes and he uses those thin fingers to catch them.  “Is this real?”

“That’s debatable.  I feel the Fade is as real as anything else.”

Her heart sinks and she looks away from the bald elf.  “I’m dreaming.”

“With me.  Yes.”

“I thought for a moment…”

“I know what you thought, but no.  Our bodies are not touching, simply our minds.”  He brings his hand to rest on her shoulder blade.  “Why not enjoy it while it lasts?”

She shakes her head and attempts to untangle herself from him.  “No.  This… it’s too much.  This feeling… so… real, but not.  I can’t...”

His tightens his hold on her ever so slightly.  “If you’d let me help you the way I want to, you might be able to have this in the waking world.”

“Solas.”

“Consider my offer.  I promise the practice will be worth the discomfort.”

When he releases her, she sits bolt upright in her bed.  The body resting next to her, hand grazing her thigh, is the only indication that she’s awake for real this time.  His sleeping thoughts swirling around in her head.  She focuses on them in an attempt to slow her erratic heart.  He’s dreaming of her.  It’s not the first he’s done so, but something is different about this one.  There is a romantic flavor to it that begins to make her uncomfortable.  All that touching.  She shifts her leg to break the contact.  She wonders what spurred his subconscious to build him a dream like that.  She knew he had a growing fascination and attraction to her, but she hadn’t realized it had progressed that far.

She looks over at him and sees that his color has returned.  He looks far healthier than he has in days.  She lifts the spell surrounding her little cabin.  The predawn light seeps into the room.  She shifts forward and crawls gently to the foot of the bed before climbing out of it.  She uses a bucket of clean water and a clean cloth to quickly bathe herself before changing into her armor.  She still needs time to adjust to the leather and cloth.  When he wakes, he will not stay idle long and she needs to be ready.  His withdrawal is far from over, but the worst has passed for now.  Eventually, he’ll be bed ridden again and worse than he was this time.  The closer he gets to zero the worse his down swings will get.  She needs to gather the supplies for his treatment before he makes the decision to leave. 

She heads for the door but stops.  She looks back at him.  Curiosity getting the best of her.  Surely the sexual aspect of his dream has passed and she can’t deny that she wants to know what his definition of a romantic entanglement is.  She sits in the chair next to the bed and lightly lays her hand on his arm.  Her eyes close as she releases all control and is practically sucked into his dream.

Cullen lays on his back in her bed, blanket only just covering his private area.  His head resting on his hands.  She sees herself through his eyes.  Naked, hugging her knees, her scarred back facing him.  Her flaming hair is wild and her skin glistens with sweat.  He reaches forward to grazes his fingers up her spine.  She chuckles.  “I’m fine, Cullen.”

“Then come here.”

“You know that I can’t.”

“We don’t have to touch… just… stay.”

She looks over her shoulder, her emerald eyes shining at him in the dark.  Like a cat’s eyes catching and reflecting what little light there is back at him.  A smirk tugs at the corner of her plump, slightly swollen, red lips.  “This is my bed.  If anyone needed to be invited to stay it would be you.”

He smiles and pats the bed beside him.  She rolls her eyes and unfolds herself.  Turning just so that he can’t see much more of her body.  He shakes his head.  “Ally.  We’ve just… there’s no need to hide yourself from me.”

“Can’t a girl be modest even after... what just happened?”

“I suppose so.  I just… rather enjoy looking at you.”

“I know.”

He scoffs.  “Of course you do.”  He turns onto his side as soon as she has settled in beside him, gathering up some of the discarded blanket to cover herself.  “This was a first for me too you know?”

“Not your first time.”

“With an elf and a mage.”

“I know.”

“Oh. Right.”  She looks away from him and he sighs.  “I was thinking about all this during…?”

“Yep.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She shrugs.  “Comes with the territory.  I shouldn’t have given into you until I had this mastered.  Then maybe…” She looks away from him and then rolls onto her back.

“Maybe what?”

“I shouldn’t say.  No need to ruin the moment.”

He brushes the hair from her face careful not to make contact with her skin.  “Ally please.  Be honest with me.”

“It’s what I was afraid of from the start.  I’m never… enjoyed sex.  I told you that.  Because I can stay connected in that way.  I lose myself to the thoughts of the other person.  Any physical sensation is… lost and…”

“You didn’t enjoy yourself?  Meaning… you didn’t…?”

“I’m sorry, Cullen.  I know you tried.   You hoped I like what you were doing, but the truth is…”

He sits up and runs his hands through his hair.  “Then I should be the one to apologize.  I let my own selfish desires for you prevent me from listening.”

She scoots up beside him.  She wraps her arms around his shoulders and presses her chest into his back.  “Give me time.  I want to try this again when I have more control.  I want you to… I want you to be able to give me something I’ve never had before.”

Alyssa lets go of Cullen’s arm.  How did he know?  Was this just a manifestation of his assumptions?  It had to be.  Unless he had read more into her talk at the tavern that one night than she even realized.  She feels angry, betrayed, hurt, sad, and heartbroken all at the same time.  And she only had herself to blame.  Had she not given into her curiosity, she would have likely never known about this dream.   A dream he will likely attempt to bury so he doesn’t think about it.  A technique that has worked in the past, which is why she knew he dreamt of her but not what those dreams were about.  Even with all the digging around in his head that she’s done, there are just things she doesn’t want to know and private things that she leaves alone.

But she liked what she saw through his eyes.  He found her beautiful, scars and all.  Scars that he felt matched his own.  He liked the way her eyes reflected light but still showed the green of her iris.  He loved that he could touch her hair and that he wasn’t forcing her to read his mind.  Sex hadn’t been his goal, his own pleasure hadn’t been his goal.  He had wanted to please her, make her happy.  And he truly felt sorry that he had failed to provide it.  She is sure that all of the feelings spurred by this dream were real.  From Cullen, he is often more honest about how he feels when he isn’t thinking about appearances or what was proper.  Even in his nightmares, she could get a more honest reading as to what his fears truly were.

She hates herself for this latest invasion of privacy.  She wishes she had resisted that urge. She wishes she had just walked out the door and kept walking.  Delivering the news to Cassandra and Rylen that he was fit for duty and then disappearing into the woods until he was ready to leave.  Because despite being mad at herself, he still needed her and no force in this world would prevent her from doing just that.

She goes to the requisition officer, who hates her, one hand shake proved that long ago, to deliver the list of things the Herald would need once he was ready to leave.  With a sneer, the woman said she’d have it ready.  With nothing left to do but wait, she goes to lean on the wall near where Varric’s tent and fire reside.  It has the best view of her front door so he will know where she is.  When he’s going through withdrawal, she has learned that he likes to have her in his field of vision at all times.

The door to her cabin flies open then and she smiles at how disheveled he looks.  His curly blonde hair a mess, his sweat and vomit stained clothes the complete opposite from his usual appearance.  She watches relief wash over him and then he slams the door.  She shakes her head, shoving off the wall and walking towards the door.  She taps softly.

“I thought you had gone.”

“Never.  I just thought you needed some privacy to ready yourself for the day.”

“Oh.  Right.  I suppose it’s time to get back to work then.”

“You don’t sound too eager.”

“I was… beginning to enjoy… never mind.  I trust there are clean clothes and something to bathe with in here.”

“On the desk.  I can have your armor brought over.”

“Yes.  I’d like that.  Thank you, Ally.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She slaps the door as a way of saying goodbye before heading towards his tent.  As she makes the walk towards the gate, she is stopped in her tracks.  Her eyes lock with those of a mischievously smiling elf.  Her lips turns up in a sneer before continuing her path.  Even as she passes through the gate, she can hear his laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank my readers for their continued patience. I'm working on 3 fics right now and I'm trying to alternate between which ones I'm working on. Finishing a chapter and then switching to another fic, but one of my OCs is being selfish. So, I'm sorry this one isn't as lengthy as the others, but if have not given up on it! I love Alyssa and Cullen too much to let it end early. Thanks for reading, as always! Love you all!


	7. Storm Clouds over the Sea

After going to the Hinterlands and meeting Mother Giselle, Cullen has been putting off the trip to Val Royeaux.  Not because he fears the Chantry and the arrest that potentially waits from him, far from it.  He dreads having to deal with Orlesians.  An ingrained Fereldan attitude that he knows he’s going to have to break if he wants to get anywhere.  Having just recovered from a withdrawal episode, he opts to bring Alyssa with him, which she seems extremely relieved by.  He wants to ask, but with Varric and Cassandra’s presence, he can’t really find the opportunity.  He knows his past as templar will be mentioned upon their arrival.  It’s taken a lot to break the templars from addressing by his former title.  Knowing they need mage or templar help to seal the Breach dictates that he needs to keep both options open, but he has to admit that he has a soft spot for his former brothers and sisters in arms.

The second they pass into Orlais, he notices that Alyssa becomes more of a shadow to him than she had been.  Their trip to Jadar and then boarding the ship, she was close, but the second the Capital came into view, she never out of his line of sight.  He wonders if that is more to do with his anxiousness or hers.  He hates sailing.  He would have much rather ridden the whole way, but they needed to be swift in order to get back to the task at hand.  Which consisted on returning to the Hinterlands to help the refugees, recruiting the mages or templars, and closing rifts all over Thedas.  He also hates enclosed spaces, so despite his hatred of the sea, he spends most of his time on the deck, clinging to the side and praying to the Maker for the trip to be over.

He does admit that he likes the way the wind blows her short, springy red hair around.  The way the light catches in it, making the drops of seawater in it sparkle like rubies.  But she doesn’t look to be enjoying herself.  He catches her eye on one of her many glances in his direction and he waves her over.  She unfolds her legs from under her and crosses to the other side of the ship.  “Feeling ok?”

“A little sea sick, but fine.”

“That’s good.”  She sits on the railing beside where he sits on a wooden box.  “I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“I’ve noticed.  I have to wonder though why you’ve been sitting up here watching me so closely since passing into Orlesian waters?”

She looks up and away from him.  “It’s pretty easy to guess why.”

“Because I’m Fereldan?”

She chuckles and scoffs simultaneously.  “No.  That’s not it.  It has nothing to do with being in Orlais.  Well… it mostly has nothing to do with being in Orlais.”

“But you’re nervous about something?”

“Warmer.”

He looks up at her.  The sea breeze blowing her hair back.  Her pointed ears more visible than they usually are.  “You’re worried about how you will be treated in the capital?  Being an elf and a mage?”

She looks down at him.  “Not just any mage.  A Kirkwall mage.  I’m not sure if you know this but lately…”  She looks up and away again.  “Maybe I shouldn’t say.”

He uncurls himself from the box and moves to sit at her level on the rail.  He reaches up and gently grabs her chin.  She closes her eyes and he knows his concern and questions have already entered her mind, but he wants to ask them aloud anyway.  “Aly.  Tell me.”

She sighs her emerald eyes meeting his golden ones for a moment before pulling his hand away.  She doesn’t release his hand, instead she traces the sword and flame on his vambrace while holding his leather gloved hand.  “I’ve heard things while on this ship.  And some at Haven.  You know how things have been acting up for me?  Well, that’s how I’ve heard these things that worry me about being in Orlais.”

“Go on.”

“There are some who believe that it’s all Kirkwall’s fault.  This war.  That every mage in the Gallows is responsible.  Not for the Chantry, because everyone knows that an apostate did that.  Though some of the templar minds are having a hard time remembering that when they look at me.  The last of my kind.  The only mage who still considers herself from Kirkwall.”

“Why is that?  Even the ones we sent to Starkhaven have stopped claiming that.”

“It’s the only circle I’ve ever been in.  Nowadays, it’s still how we mages identify ourselves.  As someone put it, our birthplace hardly matters.  It’s the circle we were in that matters.  You’ll notice that as you speak with other mages.  Both rebel mages, or free mages as they call themselves, and loyal mages, those who still believe the circles can work, use it to differentiate themselves for those who have always been apostates.”

“That’s good to know.  I have noticed that little difference, between former circle mages and apostates.  Everyone is quick to say that all mages are apostates now, and so are apostates for that matter.”

“Right.  That’s not really the point.”

“Sorry.  Go on.”

“The point is they blame mages from Kirkwall for starting this war and as the only mage still claiming to be from there…”

He nods.  “They think you shouldn’t be in my company.”

“Or free.  Or even alive.  This crew, on this ship, is mostly Orlesian.  They’ve only heard rumors.  I mean, the same could be said for most people in regards to Kirkwall.  The events there set the tone for everything.  In fact, I find it hard now that I’ve segregated myself from them to sympathize with the free mages’ cause.  I’m not saying that they we should have the circles back given that the Gallows was not a happy nor safe place to study, which I use loosely, but it is my only impression of the circle and makes my opinion fairly low on whether they should exist or not.  What I’m trying to say is… I don’t sympathize with their plight.  Their word not mine.  I look at my experience and then look at mages from… I don’t know… I met one from Ostwick.  He had it made.  Templars didn’t treat them poorly and he was encouraged to study and learn.  He never had to worry about someone forgetting to give him food or water.  And he could even go visit his family with permission from his first enchanter.” 

He’s actually surprised to hear this from her.  He expected her to tell him to go find the rebel mages and ask them to join.  But it sounds like she thinks he should go for the templars.  She violently shakes her head.

“No.  I… that’s not…”  She drops his hand and moves away just enough to provide a little space.  “I just don’t feel sorry for them.  The pity party they throw themselves is uncalled for.  Templars didn’t do the things to them that they did to me.  And as I learn and grow as a person, I’m starting to… become a little more vocal about that.  It hasn’t made me many friends.  I had an argument last night, before we crossed over into Orlais, with a sailor and… well it got heated.  It made me sound a little hypocritical to be honest.  I don’t see why these others mages feel they’ve been tormented in the circle, but I don’t know if the circles work.  But I know that I fear templars and I don’t think that’s unreasonable of me.  I don’t fear you, but you are the exception.  Then he said that if should keep those opinions to myself because I have more blame placed upon me given where I’m from.”

“That’s ridiculous.  You are entitled to your opinion.  I honestly appreciate hearing this from you as I have often wondered what you think of this war and whom I should approach.”

“I don’t know who you should approach.”

“From my experience, Kirkwall was the worst of the circles, but not the only one with problems.  Kinloch was fairly strict.  I’ve heard some horror stories out of Rivain.  Which might be why it was annulled.”

She gasps a little.  “The Rivaini circle was annulled?”

He nods.  “Before the Conclave.  Before the mages’ vote to leave the Chantry even.”

“Why didn’t I know that?”

“Not sure.”

“Do we know why?”

He shakes his head.  “No.  I assume the mages there rebelled?  But all in all most mages just didn’t like the new restrictions placed on them after Kirkwall exploded.”

She rolls her eyes.  “That can’t be their reason for rebellion.  It’s petty and childish.  Oh wah, you got your library time cut short.  You can’t just leave whenever you feel like it.”

“Again, I’m sure it’s more than that.  But I understand how you feel that way.”

“So, the reason I’ve been sticking close to you is… I fear for my life as well as yours.  My support for mage freedom while also not getting why they are being so uppity about it all hasn’t made me friends.  Plus being from Kirkwall, the argued start of this war, makes people want to blame me for starting it despite not having a damn thing to do with any of that fighting.  I surrendered during the Rite if you’ll recall.  Bent the knee to Meredith.  Which I’m sure I’d also get shit for.  Add being an elf, and a freak on top of that, and I’ve got a huge target on my back.”  She sighs.  “But also, it’s yet another new place that I hear will kill with kindness.  Meaning they are nice to your face while slipping poison in your cup.”

“You have nothing to worry about.  What you need to remember is that the Chantry is still blaming me for Divine Justinia’s death and the other deaths at the Conclave.  Add leaving the Order and taking more than a few templars with me in doing so, and I’m the biggest threat in Thedas to these people.  They want to see my head on a pike.”

“And mine would no doubt me beside yours.”

“I don’t see why.  You could easily play the victim card.”

She sighs and looks off into the distance.  “The more I travel with you and the more I learn about people and the world, the more I’d rather be the hated Kirkwall mage than the poster girl for the mage rebellion.  Which is another thing I’ve been recently.”

“How so?”

“More often than not when people learn I’m from Kirkwall, they get this look on their face.  Like you poor thing.  And then they go tell their friends and they say something like ‘she’s all the evidence I need that we’re doing the right thing.’  As if my scars are a good enough excuse for them to rebel.”

“We’ve been holding this in a while.  I think it might be the most you’ve said about… anything.”

She looks at him.  “Are you complaining?”

“No!  Maker no.  I’m… happy.  Thrilled even.  It’s what I’ve been asking you to do for ages.”  He hopes the smile on his face shows he’s being serious.  That he really is happy that she’s opening up to him.  Even if it is about her seemingly conflicting views on the mages and not her past.  “I think you have every right to feel as you do.  You shouldn’t be blamed for things you didn’t have a hand in and you shouldn’t be the example or excuse people raise up to support their own causes.”

She looks him dead in the eye.  “And neither should you, mark or no.”

“Wait.  What?”

“This Inquisition.  This whole Herald of Andraste thing.  The accusations of you being a murderer.  You shouldn’t let what others think alter what you believe or how you wish the world to be.  You have always had a strong moral code.  I think if you stick with that, you’ll be fine.”

“Where is this coming from?”

She smirks and leans back to lay on the railing.  “Oh.  You know.”  She touches him with her foot for a moment before point at his forehead.  He smiles, shaking his head.  “The perils for trying to help you sleep on this blasted ship.”

“You’re going to fall off.”

“Psh. Never.  Elves have great balance.”

“Says the woman who fell of a horse the first time she rode one.”

“Hey!”  She sits up.  “You promised never to speak of that.”

He smirks and chuckles.  Her mood shifts so suddenly sometimes.  It’s hard for him to keep up.  “My apologies.”

She lays back on the railing and sits her feet in his lap.  “You are forgiven.  And no, we can’t move this to a more stable area.  I happen to like this spot.”

He looks behind him at the churning waves below them.  The railing is thick, wide enough for her to lay on obviously, but he worries that his sea sickness with return and his abrupt movement will knock her into the sea.  Where she’ll be pulled down under the ship and drowned.  He feels her hand on his shoulder near where his shoulder and neck meet.  “Hey.  I’ll be fine.  If anything, I’ll end up saving you because you’d just jump in after me in all that armor.”

She is so close to him.  He tries to stop the ideas from surfacing given their closeness and the physical contact she has on him.  But naturally trying not to think of something only makes it that much more determined to surface.  His eyes trace her facial features.  Her shining emerald eyes below eyebrows a darker red than her hair with equally dark red, long lashes.  She has more freckles than she used to, likely due to her increased exposure to sunlight.  In fact, her nose and cheeks are a little pink.  Her lips a pale red.  He remembers the dream he had of her in her cabin.  How plump and red her lips were.  He longs to make that vision a reality.

“Ok.”

He blinks at her for a moment.  He’s eyes darting from her lips to her eyes.  “What?”

She wets her lips and shrugs.  “I said ok.”

“Ok to what exactly?”

She looks away.  “Nothing.  Just… forget it.”  Her hand falls from his shoulder and she pulls her feet from his lap.  She hops off the railing and goes to leave him there.  He grabs her wrist briefly, just enough to stop her, but doesn’t hold her.  He knows what that does to her.  “I appreciate that.”

He slides off the railing.  “I’m not a mind reader, Aly.  If you want something from me, or are giving me permission to do something, I will need verbal confirmation.”

“It was a moment of weakness.  Please just forget it.  Please.”

He watches her shut down as she always does.  Folding her arms, tucking her hands into her armpits.  That little girl who cowed before templars returning, replacing the confident woman who had been sitting beside him mere moments before.  “Ok.  I’ll forget it.  Or try to.  But answer me one question.”

“Alright.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Cower like that.”

She looks down at herself.  “I… don’t know.  Habit?”

“You know you don’t have to hide from me.  We’re talked about that.  At length.”

“I know.  It just happens.  Ok.”

He steps forward and she counters by stepping back.  He sighs.  “Is it for your benefit or mine?”

She squints at the floor.  She’s appears to be actually processing the question.  Why was she shrinking back into her old self?  The Kirkwall victim?  The helpless little mage?  That person she wished people didn’t see?  She looks up at him.  “This is just one more thing I hate about myself.”  She turns on her heel and rushes to the other side of the ship.  She moves so quickly towards the opposite railing that he half thinks she’s going to fling herself over the side.  But she doesn’t.  She presses her palms into the wood and hunches over.  It almost looks like she is about to vomit, but doesn’t.  He slowly crosses the ship.  He stands beside her and simply looks out at the sea, his hands clasped behind him.  “You can stand there, just don’t touch me.”

“I had no intention.”

“I’m… I’m realizing some things about myself and I… I’m losing control a bit.”  He looks over at her and sees that the railing beneath her hands is sparkling with blue and white ice.  He nods and takes a side step away.  “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to leave you?”

“Maybe?”  She shakes her head.  “No.”

“Then I shall stay.”

He watches her out of the corner of his eye.  He can’t help but feel responsible for this.  His thoughts and words have done this to her.  Though he’s never seen her magic act this way.  Usually it’s just her empathic powers she loses control over.  Unless the ice thing is a means of compensating for the overload she gets when she can’t block out all the thoughts around her.  “That’s about right.  And this isn’t your fault.  I’m glad you pointed it out.”

“The way you stand when you shut down on me?”

“Yes.  It only highlights the whole victim aspect of my past that I wish people couldn’t see.”

“What is it you said to me once?  You need to own your past in order to move on from it?”

She looks over at him then.  More out of the corner of her eye than with her whole head.  He doesn’t move and continues looking out at the horizon.  “Own it huh?”

“I’m not sure those were your exact words, but yes.”

“Speak the words and they no longer hold power over your nightmares?”

“It makes them real, but it was always real.  Reality is far less frightening than the horrors our mind can invent.”

He glances sideways, not moving his head in the slightest.  He sees that the ice is gone and her hands have relaxed some.  He shifts his gaze upwards.  She is looking down and nibbling on her lip, as if debating something.  “Ok.  I think… I’m not sure I’m quite at the speaking stage, but… maybe I can…”  He turns toward her now, as she closes her eyes to focus.  Her hands closing into tight balls.  “Prompt me?”

He asks the first question that pops into his head.  “What makes you feel most like a victim?”

Her shoulder slump and she inhales sharply.  “You want to cover that?  Now?  Not why I cower?”

“We’ll cover whatever you think will help you.”

She sighs and pushes back from the railing.  “Follow me.”  She turns away from him and walks towards the front of the ship.  She stops after a few steps.  “Actually… could you change?”

“Change?”

“I’m not entirely sure what’s going to happen and… I would hate for you to be in full armor should something happen.”

He chuckles a little.  “Normally, that’s when you want to be in full armor.”

“Not if you happen to fall off the ship.”

“Alright.”

She points ahead of her.  “You’ll find me up there.”

“At the front of the ship?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be right back then.”  He rushes off to go change out of his armor.  She heads to the front of the ship.  She climbs over the railing and lowers herself on the forward mast.  She swings down and drops into the safety netting below it.  It might not be the safest part of the ship, but after the hateful looks she garnered from some members of the crew, it sure felt like it.  The sea water splashing against the hull also splashes against her, but a little dampness is nothing compared to what might happen if she didn’t hide.  She throws her arm over her eyes to block out the sun.  Why had she agreed to his thoughts?  Why did she then back down?  He truly cared for her.  She knew this, but it’s not like he’d ever allow himself to act on it. 

Maybe that was her goal.  Make him act.  He’s going to need to start doing that soon.  She’s heard in the heads of the advisors that he might be the one they need to lead the whole of the Inquisition.  The group dynamic can’t hold out forever and with no sign of The Hero of Ferelden or Hawke (for which she is grateful) they will need an official leader soon.  She fully supported the idea of Cullen as the Inquisitor.  He has changed and grown a lot in ten years.  Ten years of seeing exactly what mages and even templars have done or can do.  Though he’s still a lot biased.  He’s seen the worst mages have to offer.  Meredith was crazy, but she was an extreme case to him.  He can’t see the rank and file of templars behaving as she did.  But she knows that men under his command became experts at hiding their actions from him.  He’s only just now getting her side of the story.  And the best way to do that is to show him.  She knows this now.  Though she hates to admit it.  But she needs to control it.  Just show him and not let him feel it.  It’s easier said than done of course, but she hopes that her time with Solas has helped with this at least a little bit.

She hears boots on the deck approach and stop.  “Aly?”

She uncovers her face.  “Down here.”

She watches him lean forward and frown.  “That can’t be safe.”

“It’s called a safety net for a reason, Cullen.”

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding?”

“Hiding is a strong word, but yes.  It’s damp, but no one would think to look for me down here.  You know, in case they decided to act on the whole killing me thoughts.”

“What?”

“Just get down here.”  He sighs and slowly climbs out onto the forward mast.  He gets into positon with his legs hanging on one side of the large beam and slowly slides himself down.  He still has to drop, but at least he doesn’t have far to go.  The stiff netting is strong and barely moves when his back hits it.  “Why… is the Herald of Andraste afraid of heights?”

“Not heights.  Falling into the sea.  I’m not a strong swimmer.”

“But you know how?”

“I get by.  So, why are we meeting down here?”

She shifts to sit up.  He struggles to do the same.  “You wanted to know some of my past.”

“Right.”

“I feel safe here.”

“Alright.”

“This is… hard to control.  You know that.  You’ve felt that.  I just think that if I’m going to force my memories into your head, I should at the very least take my own fear out of the equation.  If I feel safe then maybe I can focus more on what I’m trying to do.”

“Got it.  Anything I should know?”

“I’m going to try not to let what happen last time happen this time, but I’ve never done this on purpose.  Hell, I’m not even sure it’s going to work.”

“I’m willing to try if you are.”

She folds her legs in front of her and shakes out her arms before laying her hands palms up on her knees.  She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.  She pulls the memory she wants to share to the forefront of her mind.  Which really means she tries to recall the first time she felt like a victim.  It was his question after all. She thinks she has the answer.  “Ok.  I’m ready.  Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Ok then.  Focus on your breathing.  Like you usually do.”  He closes his eyes.  Repeating the words in and out in his mind while following those commands.  He hears her sigh.  “Are you comfortable?”

“As much as I can be on a net suspended above the sea.”

“Ok.  Here we go.”  She opens her eyes and reaches forward.  She takes his bare hands in hers.  She first has to push his thoughts aside.  Anxious and excited, the memory of last time, the wondering as to what he’ll see.  They will be there of course, but she needs to assert herself.  Make it so that the connection reverses.  Focus on her own thoughts and lets go.  He inhales sharply.  She thinks, “Can you hear me?”

He answers with his mind.  “Yes.”

She fights to control her excitement.  This the first time she has actually succeeded in doing this.  She is also unsure if he can hear everything she is thinking.  His thoughts don’t give an indication of that.  So maybe he can only see or hear the things she actively sends to him.  She wets her lips and closes her eyes.  “You wanted to know when I first felt like a victim?”

“I want to know everything, but sure.  Let’s start there.”

She lets the memory bubble to the surface to transport them back in time.  Let it take the forefront of her mind and makes sure to include him in the focus.  She shivers as it rushes full force through their connection.  Her head slumps forward and she grips his hands.  She feels him release his own control, his mind wide open and receptive.  She hears him inhale sharply as the memory assaults his as it did her.

_She walks with her head down, her hands pressed to her ribs.  The rain soaking her from head to toe.  She wears no shoes and her feet leave the faintest red on the wet stones in the Gallows.  She shivers from the cold.  She’s crying silent tears, but she can’t tell which are tears and which are drops of rain.  Her mind buzzes with activity.  But at this hour of night, not many minds are awake.   Just those too invested it whatever is happening around them or too afraid as to what terrors await them this night._

_She stops in the center of the Gallows and looks up at the slave statues.  Strung up as if in bondage.  The rain drips from them and the sky above them churns.  Lightning and thunder helping to calm the voice in her mind.  She knows she shouldn’t be here.  She should be in her room, her cell.  Bracing for another long night.  Yet she can’t bring herself to leave this place.  She begs the storms to take her away from all this.  The nightly visits from men too vile to name.  The near constant threat that one day they will take her magic from her.  The feeling of loneliness that makes up her days.  Yet tolerating it all for the hope that someday she might be able to control this curse enough to block it all out._

_“Alyssa?”_

_Her whole body stiffens.  She’s caught.  Her heart races.  She knows the punishment for being out this late.  Still she just stares up at the sky, begging for some greater power to take her from this earth.  A hand comes to rest gently on her shoulder.  The concern and caring take over her mind.  The question repeats.  “What are you doing out here, child?”_

_“Couldn’t sleep.”_

_“Well, let’s get you back inside before someone see’s you?”_

_“What’s the point?”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_She turns to look at the tall elf in dark robes standing beside her.  “What’s the point of going back in there?  They’re just going to drag me back into that office again tomorrow.”_

_“What office?”_

_“Every night this week.  I get woken up and dragged off.  They accuse me of blood magic or possession.  Demand I prove my innocence.”_

_“Has this been documented?”_

_She scoffs and looks up at the chained slaves.  “As if they’d document a lie.  They have no intention for reporting anything.”_

_“Walk with me while you explain at least.  I can’t help you if you are caught out here.”_

_“You can’t help me.  No one can.”_

_He places his arm around her shoulders and steers her towards the mages’ quarters.  “Come now.  Our lessons have made some progress, have they not?”_

_“Well, yes.  But…”_

_“But nothing.  Tell me about these events that trouble you.”_

_She shakes her head.  “I can’t.  They’ll hurt me far worse than they already have.  They told me as much.  They thought as much.  If I don’t resist, if I play my part, it ends quickly and they send me on my way.”_

_He stops in his tracks.  “Why haven’t you reported this?”_

_She shrugs.  “What good will it do, Orsino?  I’m an apprentice.  I have not had my Harrowing.”  She holds out her hands and looks up at him.  “This curse I have… puts me at the mercy of everyone.  Makes me an easy target.  And until tonight…”_

_“What happened?  Please tell me what happened?”_

_She closes her hands into fists.  Her vision blurs as the tears begin in earnest again.  Tonight was the worst.  The beatings she could handle.  It’s all they wanted to begin with.  A mage who would let them beat her up a little.  It helped that she was an elf.  Had she been human it would have escalated to this long ago.  “I… I can’t.  Maker help me, I can’t.”  She takes a few steps back from him.  He doesn’t move to touch her again.  But she knows he is ready to chase after her if she runs.  A sob threatens to break free from her chest.  She claps her hands over her mouth to trap.  “No.  I…”_

_“Alyssa.  Walk with me.  That’s all I ask.”_

_She nods shakily.  He walks past her and she follows behind him.  She would stand in the rain all night it would help wash this feeling away.  Her feet splat painfully on the ground.  She looks down at her bleeding feet.  Where had her shoes ended up?  Still on the floor in that office?  Or maybe they had made it out into the hallway with the rest of her clothing?  Maybe she had neglected to pick them up in her hurry to flee?  And the sob breaks free.  They will punish her for that._

_Her knees buckles and she splays out on the wet stone in front of the doorway that leads inside.  Orsino spins and kneels beside her.  “Alyssa?”_

_“Don’t touch me!”_

_“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”_

_“Do you even know what you are apologizing for?  Do any of us?”_

_His hand presses into the soaking wet stone next to her hands but not touching them.  “We can report this to the Knight-Commander.  She will listen.  Even she has limits to what she will tolerate from her officers.”_

_“How long have you been here?”_

_“In Kirkwall?  Since I was a boy.  Since I manifested.”_

_“And when did you step up to be First Enchanter?”_

_“Last year.”_

_“Then you know we don’t matter to Meredith.  You saw what they did to me before I even had magic.  What makes you think she’d care that her men a beating and raping mages?”_

_His hand disappears.  “Raping?  Is that…?  Go inside.  I will handle this.”_

_She grabs the hem of his robes as he starts back across the courtyard.  “Orsino, no!  Please.  They will know it was me!  Please don’t.  I can’t…”_

_He kneels beside her again.  “You are a child.  This is… unacceptable!  An outrage!”_

_She starts crying again in earnest.  Then she claps her hands over her ears as her mind is bombarded.  Her physical pain now matched by her mental pain.  “Orsino.  Please.”  She can hear him loud and clear.  He knows Meredith is asleep by now, but he demands justice.  He rages inside his own mind and now hers.  The dreams of her fellow mages mix with his rage.  None of them very interesting, but it’s deafening.  A sobs breaks free again as she begs him to keep quiet.  Begging him to let it go.  Begging for the sound to stop.  He must have looked her then.  On her stomach on the ground, forehead against the stones, hands clawing at her ears, her blood swirling in the water.  Pity and sympathy wash over her.  Replacing his rage.  He bends down and helps her stand.  His thoughts attempt to calm her.  She wraps her arms around him.  Crying into his equally wet garb.  “Alright.  Not tonight.  We’ll tend to you first.  Then I’ll deal with them.  I won’t ask you anymore about it until you… can speak of it.  Or at least provide me with names.”  She shakes against him.  “Shh, child.  Everything will be ok.  Tell you what.  You can stay with me.  I have room and they will not bother you there.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“Hush, child.  And come with me.”  She lets his calming thoughts take over her mind, which in turn calms her.  Her control over herself returns slowly as he leads her through the darkened halls.  She keeps her eyes trained on the ground.  Purposefully avoiding the chance to catch even a glimpse of the shining armor of the templars that patrol their quarters at night._

_Unfortunately, one stops Orsino.  “First Enchanter?  Why are you up so late?”_

_“Just helping this poor girl.”_

_“What’s wrong with her and why are you both wet?”_

_She feels the panic rise in him, but he holds it at bay.  “She was running a fever.  So, I took her outside in the hopes that the rain would cool her.”  He thanks his lucky stars that he is the only mage with the ability to come and go as he pleases.  At least to his office and back at all hours.  She feels his relief._

_“Alright.  Well, you’d better get into something dry.  We wouldn’t want you to catch you death.”  They both laugh.  She knows Orsino’s is forced.  As they walk, he wants to know if he was one of men who did this to her.  She doesn’t respond to the thought.  He isn’t, but that doesn’t make his armor any less off putting.  Her mind starts to shut down after the door to his quarters closed and lock.  He sets her down carefully on a couch._

_She doesn’t wait for him to offer her clean, dry robes.  She just curls up on her side and hugs one of the pillows she finds.  She feels his magic surge around her.  Drying her robes, her skin, and her hair.  The wet whisked away a vanishing into thin air.  He kneels down by her head.  “I know you’d prefer that I heal all of you.  Erase all this like it never happened.  But…”_

_She sighs.  “You promised.”_

_“I promised not to do it now.  But I can’t just wait.  The Knight-Commander needs to know.  And she will want to see you, even if you can’t or won’t talk about it.”  He brushes his fingers along her cheek.  “I’m so sorry, child.”  She can tell a bruise has formed there.  And she wishes he wasn’t touching her when he surveys the damage.  That which he can see in any case.  Bleeding feet, torn and blood stained robes, bruises on her face and forearms.  He sighs and she closes her eyes.  “We’re going in the morning.  Again.  I’m sorry to make you relive this so soon.”_

_She shrugs to get his hand off her.  “You wouldn’t force this one me, if you knew the fate that awaits me if you do.”_

_Alyssa fast forwards the memory now.  Skipping to her being escorted by Orsino to Meredith’s office in the same clothes from the night before.  Still with no shoes on her feet.  The mages are awake now.  No one touches her, but she hasn’t mastered tuning everyone out yet.  They see her and they know.  They wish to help her.  To prevent Orsino from taking her to see Meredith.  To protect this young girl from the life they all lead.  But they do nothing.  They look away and keep moving.  She shrinks into herself.  Pressing her hands into her ribs, hoping that her own touch will make her own thoughts stronger than those around her.  She does not raise her eyes for a moment.  They are fixed to the ground a few feet in front of her.  They go up the stairs and she stops dead in her tracks.  He turns to face her.  “What is it?”_

_“Are my shoes ahead of us?”_

_She knows he’s looking, but she keeps her distance from him.  She hears him growl and he leaves her standing there.  “Knight-Commander!  I need to speak with you!”_

_Her door flies open and she comes down the hall.  “It’s early, Orsino, what…?  I know this mage.”_

_“She was attacked by your men last night!”_

_“Attacked?  How?”_

_His hand brushes Alyssa’s arm and she now knows that he is pointing at her discarded shoes in the hall.  But it’s more than her shoes.  Her hand slaps her mouth she covers it so fast.  Her head is flooded with Meredith’s rage as the Knight-Commander grabs her by the arm and drags her down the hall.  “Are those yours?”_

_“Y…Y…Yes, Knight-Commander.”_

_“And why are they here?”_

_“I told you the girl was attacked last night.”_

_“Mages are not allowed in these halls unless escorted.  Were you escorted?”_

_“I’m sure those are not the words she would use!”_

_“Orsino!  Let me handle this.”_

_Alyssa shakes violently.  Her mind invaded by the poison of Meredith’s mind.  But still she answers.  “I was taken from my room last night.  I was brought here against my will.”  Meredith releases her arm and Alyssa has to watch her.  She fears not knowing where this woman is more than she fears being in this place again.  Meredith snatches the shoes off the ground and tosses them to her.  Alyssa picks them up and hugs them to her chest.  She watches her pick up her smalls off the ground.  Tears now stream down Alyssa’s face and Meredith softens when she looks at her.  “Do you have your papers?”_

_Alyssa shoves her hand in her pocket and produces them without hesitation.  Her mouth becomes a straight line as reads.  And she wishes she knew what it meant.  “You’re 13?”  She simply nods.  “Both of you stay here.”  The Knight-Commander barges into the office door that her belongings sat outside.  Laughter rolls out it and is immediately halted by Meredith’s entry.  She can hear them hurrying to stand, to salute, to greet her.  Then the door slams shut._

_Orsino nods at her.  “I told you she would listen.”_

_Alyssa doesn’t share his optimism.  They can hear that Meredith’s voice is raised and that the men inside respond, but they can’t hear what is actually being said.  When the door flies open again and Meredith exits, the men do not follow.  Orsino raises an eyebrow.  “Well?”_

_“They will be punished for their behavior.”_

_“What does that mean?”_

_“That is Templar business.  You are wise to remember that.”  She turns her attention to Alyssa.  “As for you.  I don’t appreciate being lied to.”_

_“But I never…”_

_“Hush.  You are not 13.  And if you’d lie about your age, who knows what else you’d lie about.  I don’t not doubt that you may have felt attacked, but I have no evidence to prove it.”_

_Orsino grabs her face and points it at Meredith.  “Do you think she did this to herself?”  He pushes up one of her sleeves.  A hand print shaped bruise rests on her forearm.   “Or this?”_

_“You’ve made your point.  Have a healer look her over and give me a report.”_

_Alyssa’s heart races.  Her eyes bulge.  “No.”  They both look at her.  “I didn’t want this.  I didn’t want any of this.  Please.  Just forget it.”_

_“Did they rape you, Alyssa?”  Orsino’s question is soft but clearly meant to state something that has clearly not been mentioned._

_She takes a few quick breaths before looking at the floor.  She can’t guarantee that they won’t retaliate against her for speaking out.  And it has not escaped her notice that the door stands open.  She can’t speak the words, but she can’t lie.  She looks up again.  Tears flowing with renewed interest.  She looks directly at Meredith, but doesn’t make eye contact.  She has learned that Templars who know what she can do, often think she is trying to control them when she does.  She simply nods a few times and then lets her head slump forward.  Watches the drops hit the cold floor near her feet.  She does hear whatever exchange is had between the two leaders, but Orsino seems satisfied when he wraps his arm around her shoulder to lead her away._

_She feels numb.  Even though he is touching her, thinking at her, and speaking to her, she doesn’t register it.  She tried so hard to stay under the radar. She fails every time of course, but for the first time she actually feels like the victim her fellow mages already see her as.  Orsino deposits her in her room, which she shares with other apprentices.  The apprentices who no doubt heard her cries for help in the night and did nothing don’t look at her.  She drops her shoes by her trunk and climbs onto her bed.  She crawls to the far corner and presses herself against the stones.  She hugs her knees and buries her face against them.  Pressing the bones into her eye sockets.  The main difference between being beaten and this is the worthlessness she feels towards herself now.  In her mind, it’s what makes her a victim.  And when yet again nothing comes of this, she will just have to accept it.  She will have to lay there and take it.  If she doesn’t fight as she did last night, then maybe it won’t hurt.  She has zero faith in whatever punishment the Knight-Commander is going to dish out.  These men won’t learn and they won’t stop.  Meredith has given them far too much power and the mages too little freedom.  Defending herself with magic, as much as she would like to, would only invite her death.  Though maybe she should just welcome it seeing that she had begged the storm for it._

Alyssa opens her tear filled eyes and gently pulls her hands from his.  He sits there quietly.  His eyes closed. He cheeks are wet with tears.  She allows him time to process what he’s just witnessed.  But not just witnessed.  He felt it too.  The physical, emotional, and mental pain.  And if she’s being honest, this isn’t her worst memory.  It’s bad, but not the worst by far.  In fact, there is nothing but escalation from here on out.  He slowly open his eyes.  She simply sits and waits.  He opens his mouth and she holds up her hand.  “Don’t apologize.  You weren’t there.  If you had been, I know things would have been different.  So, don’t apologize for something you didn’t have a hand in.”

“The men?  Who were they?”

“Doesn’t matter.  They are dead now.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The fact that I saw them die during the Rite.”

“Really?”  She nods.  “Good.”

She tilts her head and squints at him.  “Good?  That’s not the response I was expecting.”

He reaches out of her hand.  She hands it to him and he slowly pushes up her sleeve.  His fingers brush against the rope burn scars on her wrist.  “Am I right in assuming this was the same man?  Or men?”  She nods.  His mind is surprisingly blank.  That’s not to say he’s not thinking, but she isn’t being overwhelmed by what she finds there.  All she’s getting is a hint of rage but mostly a deep sense of care and concern.  He worries for her.  As to what sharing this with him will stir up for her.  He goes to release her hand and she instead turns her hand to grab his.  “What is it?”

“Shh.”

He watches her hands on his.  Her fingers twitching.  She shifts her position and tentatively starts to lace their fingers together.  His heart races.  She’s held his hand before, but never like this.  This explorative physical contact.  It shocks him more than anything after what she’s just showed him.  She bites her lip and stares at their joined hands.  She feels an urge building inside him and she slowly slides her hand from his.  She shifts away and lays back on the net staring up at the bright cloudless sky above them.

He sighs.  He can’t help the things his mind thinks about when she’s close.  He wishes he could, especially after what she just shared with him.  He would never act on his urge to kiss her.  Especially, after that.  The apology forms on his tongue but he knows that will only anger her.  She hates when he apologizes for things that are not his fault.  He can’t help his growing feelings for her.  “So, they are dead?”

“Yes.”

“It must have been a relief to see that happen.”

She regards him for a moment before returning her gaze to the sky.  “I’m not sure hearing that story will improve your opinion of me.”

“You killed them?”

She looks over at him.  “I… how’d you know?”

“If I were you, I would have taken the opportunity, if it arouse.”

She shakes her head and sits up.  “I didn’t murder them, Cullen.”

“I didn’t mean…”

She hold out her hands.  “Do you want to see what happened?”

“What?”

“I didn’t seek them out.  I want you to see what regular mages like myself, those not in power, experienced when she invoked the Rite.”

“Why?”

She sneers.  “You either want me to share things with you as you have shared with me or you don’t.”  He grabs her hands, sneering right back.  She shrinks away from a moment.  “Yeah.  I know you hate that I’ve used that against you.  But I will not have my one true friend thinking I’m a murderer no matter how justified the kill.”

He bites his tongue.  He knows she can hear what he wants to say, but he resists the urge to speak those words.  She knows it was a low blow, he doesn’t need to say so out loud.  He watches her close her eyes and breathe.  “Calm your mind, Cullen.”

He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing.  He is then transported back in time once more.

_She stands in Cullen’s office.  Her arms folded and her hands pressed into her ribs.  She knows that Orsino is going to the Grand Cleric to try to beg her to intervene.  She knows that Meredith won’t let that happen.  She knows things will come to a head tonight, but what that means is up to the Champion.  And she knows all this because Cullen stands in full armor watching the movements below from the window.  He stands with his back to her, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword.  “This has gone too far.”_

_“What has?”_

_“All… this.  I fear I haven’t acted when I should and now…”_

_“You have faith in the Champion?”_

_He nods.  “Yes.  She has been fair and kind thus far.  If anyone can defuse this it’s her.”_

_“With a touch of snark, according to what you’ve said.”_

_He chuckles.  “Yes.  That too.  But hopefully she can…”_

_The ground rumbles beneath their feet.  Alyssa promptly covers her ears and chokes down a scream of pain.  She falls to her knees like a sack of potatoes.  She can feel it.  The minds in all of Kirkwall screaming at once.  Mages, Templars, city guard, the Champion and her companions, everyday citizens.  She can normally block out the city, block out other minds, but for some reason the floodgates open.  Tears spill from her eyes.  The Chantry… gone.  Along with all the souls inside it.  She hears his mind too.  “Maker, no.”  Yet she loses herself to but the screams.  His hands grab her shoulders.  “Get up.  You have to move.”_

_“It’s too loud.  I can’t.”_

_“Alyssa.  Aly.  Look at me.  Focus on me.”  His armored hands cover hers and press them hard in her ears.  Her breathing shakes and stutters as his mind slowly overpowers those in the city.  His thoughts scream at her.  “I have to go!  And so do you!  It is not safe here.  Please go!  Hide!”  She nods and he releases her. She watches him fly out of his office, leaving the door wide open.  Her head throbs as the voices continue to plague her, only not as loud now.  She pulls herself from the floor.  She knows the back way to the Gallows like the back of her hand.  She knows all the hiding places along the way, but it is a long way.  And she knows that it is like someone has kicked a hornet’s nest with the amount of Templars rushing through the halls.  So, she presses her back to the wall next to the door frame.  Her heart racing.  The dark thoughts cluing her in to the state of affairs._

_She feels like vomiting.  She’s met this apostate that the minds across town are screaming about.  In fact, she reaches out to them.  She finds Orsino, Meredith, and Hawke.  And she listens.  It’s the farthest she’s even been able to go.  And reaching out that far has its dangers.  Like not being aware of her surroundings in a time where she desperately needs to be.  But she needs to know what’s happening.  Then she hears it declared in Meredith’s mind before she even speaks the words.  She slams the doors to her mind closed.  Her own fear helping her calm her mind and block everything out.  He’s right.  It’s not safe here.  Maker forbid they find her after they get word the Rite has been declared._

_They will gather in the main hall, downstairs.  She figures if she gives them a few moments to gather she can sneak out and get back to the relative safety of the Gallows before she is spotted.  She takes a couple of deep breaths and closes her eyes.  She reaches out with her mind, adrenalin and fear helping her control it.  There are no active minds in the hall or down the back stairwell.  She opens her eyes and peaks out.  She doesn’t see anyone.  So, she runs for it.  Her goal is to get to the Gallows and find a place to hide.  To ride this out.  And hopefully live to see another day._

_She slides to a stop as thoughts enter her mind.  Templars.  She is half way there.  She can see the door she needs, but it is across an open space and with everyone on high alert they will see her.  “Recruits!”  She has never her life been so happy to hear his voice.  “What are you doing back here?”_

_“Sorry, Knight-Captain.  We…”_

_“You were scared.  We’re all scared.  I gave the order to form ranks.  So, why haven’t you done so?”  His mind calls out to her.  “Go now!”  And she doesn’t wait.   She sprints full speed across the opening and practically slams into the door.  “Get your shields and go to the main hall.  Now!”  She watches them scurry away while she presses her back to the door.  Too afraid to open with eyes all around.  His eyes met hers.  He points behind her and mouths.  “Go!”_

_She nods a few times before turning to pull the door open and close it behind her.  She sighs against it.  She’s in the Gallows, but not out of danger by a long shot.  Mages are screaming.  Running around trying to prepare.  She wants nothing to do with this.  She shoves off the door and starts walking.  She sees mages and the older apprentices gearing up for battle.  The few that ran to warn them are there.  As she passes one of the dormitories, she hears the frightened sobs of children.  She wants to keep going.  To do as he commanded of her.  Save herself.  Hide.  But she can hear them.  The youngsters are scared and confused.  Not a single adult has come to check on them.  She growls and turns back.  She will not leave them to suffer as others have to her._

_She finds them at the back of the room.  Their beds overturned and piled to block them.  She has no idea what to do with them.  With so many of them.  Where to hide them?  Where to hide herself?  Time is short and her head pounds.  “Young ones?”  They all gasp and scream.  “Shh.  I will not harm you.”_

_The oldest one, no more than 10, moves and stands in his spot at the front of the group. He does his best to block her view of the ones behind him.  “I won’t let you hurt them.”_

_“I have no intention… why would I hurt you?”_

_“You’re his pet!  We all know it!”_

_“Who’s pet?”_

_“The Knight-Captain’s!”_

_She straightens and stares at him.  Her shock and confusion match.  She shakes her head. She doesn’t have time for this.  “The Rite of Annulment has been declared.  Do you know what that is?”  His eyes go wide and he nods.  “Knight-Captain Cullen is a good man.  He just helped save me.  And I’m wasting the time he’s given me trying to help you.  Now you can be a fool and stay where the Templars will easily find you and cut you down or you can come with me and we can find a safer place to hide.  Together.”_

_The other children push the boy out of the way in their eagerness to be safe.  One little girl.  An elf with red hair grabs her hand.  She resists the urge to yank it free.  The child’s fear of the templars far out weighing the fear she has of her.  The girl struggling to line up Alyssa’s behavior now with the stories and anti-social behavior she has come to know.  She tries to push it aside and keep moving.  The sting of children holding hands in a line behind her.  She walks swiftly through the halls.  She doesn’t know where to go.  The Templars will tear this tower apart looking for every mage inside.  Every single one.  But if they aren’t inside it…_

_“Shit.” She remembers the mages whispering about a hidden way into the building.  Lyrium smugglers use it and mages wanting to see their families in town and the apostate Anders used it on a few occasions.  She leads them towards it.  He can hear the fighting getting closer, but she can’t tell if it has breached the front gate or if it is still outside.  She is so preoccupied with safety of these children and making sure they stay together that she misses an important mental clue._

_She brings the children around in front of her.  To protect them all from behind in case someone comes up on them as she’s sending them down the escape hatch.  They walk a little further down this hall and as she’s watch their backs she hears them all scream. Several hush past her.  She lets them go.  She looks in front them and her panic, her terror almost chokes her.  She has only seem them in passing sense she came under Cullen’s protection.  They proceed to cut down the children in front of them. They kill 4 before she acts.  “No!”_

_She lashes out with ice, freezing their swords midair.  The rest of the children flee behind her.  Offensive magic was never her strong suit.  She never had a mind to fight back before.  And now it is too late to learn.  Her magic is sucked from her and she falls to the ground.  And then they laugh.  “Oh this is priceless.”_

_One of them grabs a fist full of her hair and forces her up look at him.  She cries out in pain and he laughs in her face.  “No Knight-Captain to protect you this time, you little slut.”  He forces her to stand and point her at his minions.  “What do you say lads?  Should we have some fun with little thing before we run her through?”_

_They laugh and sheath their swords.  The blood of the young mages still dripping from it.  Her brain itches.  Some being of the fade reaching out to take advantage of the chaos and fear of the mages.  But she knows what will happen to her if she relents.  She has to fight now, before that demon and the blood around her becomes her only option.  An option she’d rather die than allow them to make her succumb to this temptation.  Even without her magic, she can still read this man’s mind.  He plans to throw her to his wolves while he frees himself from his armor.  That’s her chance.  He is too distracted with inflicting suffering upon her that he doesn’t notice her wrap her hand around the hilt of the dagger at his waist._

_When he throws her forward, the dagger goes with her. She stabs the first one in the neck before anyone of them can act.  She gets pulled off him, but that only causes her to slice the man’s throat, killing him.  She stabs at the arms around her. He screams in pain and drops her.  She has to keep fighting.  She has to.  But without her magic, there isn’t much she can do.  She chokes down her fear.  Forcing it down and ignoring the continued temptation from the fade.  She lunges forward as the injured templar reaches for his blade.  She screams and stabs at his exposed face and neck.  He cries out and falls to the ground.  Her contact with his flesh shows her that the other is about to charge.  She leaps up and runs toward to trap down.  He barrels towards her.  She opens the door and stops in front of it.   He rushes toward her, sword held high.  She waits and just as he is about to run her through, she doges him and he falls forward down the hole.  He screams.  The ladder catches his feet and he tumbles.  With a sickening snap, his crashes onto his head.  The weight of his armor snapping his neck.  Just to be sure she climbs down ladder and buries the dagger in his temple._

_Her magic returns to her in a rush.  The fight and screams fill the halls.  She scurries back up the ladder and runs towards it.  It’s too late to hide now.  But she can at least save herself.  She catches Orsino’s eye as he runs deeper and higher into the tower.  He has blood on his hands.  He has killed.  She looks down at herself, thoroughly surprised that there is not a speck of blood on herself.  She looks up and sees a pair scared mages.  She hears one of them shouting.  “I want no part in this!”_

_“Maybe we can throw ourselves on their mercy?  Maybe they will accept out surrender?”_

_“It’s better than waiting for them to strike us down.”_

_She rushes to join them.  If they stay in these halls, they are dead for sure.  And if Cullen is in his proper place, by Meredith’s side, then he will likely accept their surrender.  She hopes that his thoughts in his office were true.  That he should have stood up to her.  They nod to her and she runs up to them.  She recognizes these men, but thankfully her reputation as a templar punching bag keeps them from sending her away.  They stand together, hidden in a doorway, watching Hawke and her friends cut down attacking mages and abominations.  Once they are dead, three of them run out._

_The two men fall to their knees and she follows suit and watches.  “Have mercy!  We beg you!  Do whatever ever you want with us, but please let us live!”_

_“No!” She has to clamp down on the startled sound that threatens to spring forth from her.  She can hear the large number of armored feet marching in behind her.  She keeps her eyes trained on Hawke.  “The Circle is beyond redemption.”_

_“Knight-Commander,” And she instantly feels better.  Though she is unsure if he’d act to stop her death, she hopes he’d at least try.  She turns her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye.  He is standing tall beside her, looking his commander in the eye.  She feels proud him.  “Surely the Rite of Annulment requires something more…”_

_“It’s requires my word, Cullen.  Do as I’ve commanded.”  Cullen looks forward, his lips pulling up as he does.  The second man beside her presses his forehead to the ground and begins to weep._

_“Champion!”  He prays to her, his hands clasped together.  She looks back at Cullen for a moment and the set of his jaw worries her.  She looks up at Hawke.  Her eyes are kind, despite being covered in blood.  “Will you not defend us?  Must we all be slaughtered for the actions of a few?”_

_She is quiet as she takes in the mages kneeling in front of her.  Alyssa has no idea if the Champion recognizes her, given the circumstance and her quiet nature, it wouldn’t surprise her one bit if she didn’t.  She looks up and over her head.  “I want to hear what the Knight-Captain has to say.”_

_All eyes turn to look at Cullen.  “I…”  He finally looks down to see her and it as if seeing her makes up his mind about something.  “The Rite has always been a last resort, when every mage involved was beyond salvation.  The situation was far more dire in Ferelden’s Circle and yet many mages were saved. We could still do as much here.”  And there she goes feeling proud of him again.  Facing his demons head on.  The memories she knows haunt him now being used as an example and excuse to do good instead of the utter destruction of them all._

_Meredith sneers and face forward.  “Objection noted, Captain._

_She continues watching him as things continue.  The axe still hanging above their heads.  Yet he now stands before them, the example of what a templar should be.  Their last shining hope that they might survive this._

_“Maybe they can answer some questions?”_

_“I think the first enchanter is still in the tower.  He… said he had a plan, something that would stop you.”  Her attention snaps to the man at her side.  What does Orsino, the closest thing to a father she has ever and, plan to do?  This fierce yet gentle man?  The man everyone aspired to be?_

_Meredith growls like an angry dog behind her.  “Demons?  Or something worse?”_

_“I don’t know.  We wanted nothing to do with it, so we ran.  Please, help us!  We’ve done nothing wrong!”  The other man weeps a little louder and their representative hangs his head and wrings his hands.  Figuratively throwing himself on Hawke for her mercy._

_“Is there a way to tell if they’re blood mages?”  Why the questions?  Why not just say one way or the other what she will do with them?_

_“There is not.”_

_And why must it be up to Hawke to decide?  She turns with pleading eyes to Cullen and catches the subtle calming hand wave in her direction.  “But they haven’t resorted to it, even to save their own lives.  Perhaps, if we watched them carefully…”_

_Meredith turns to face him for the first time.  Her ire pointed in his direction.  And she is surprised to see that he stands a little taller now.  “And if they hope to escape by playing innocent?  Will you accept the responsibility, Cullen?”_

_And yet again she feels pride to have known him.  He has grown so much since she has known him.  And she can’t help but feel the she played some part in that.  For he does not hesitate in his answer.  “Yes.  I believe that’s what being a templar is about.”_

_“And I say we are here to protect the people.  We must be judges, jailers, and even executioners.”  She levels her gaze back at Hawke.  Her disgust at the mages before her emanates through the air.  She has not looked away from him.  What if Hawke sides with Meredith?  She already has once.  Choosing the templars over the mages, one of which being her own sister.  If she’s willing to kill someone who has surrendered and begged for mercy, would she kill her own sister?  And if that choice is made, what will he do?  Is their friendship strong enough for him to go against his Knight-Commander?_

_“We’re here to prevent a crisis, not raze everything in our path.”  She sighs with relief at not having to find out.  She falls forward to press her palms into the stone.  She mumbles her thanks to Hawke. And to Cullen.  She wishes she knew the fate of those kids, but all she knows right now is that she is safe._

_“Listen to the Champion.”  The templars come forward and she feels his hand under her arm.  His thoughts so thankful that she had the wisdom to do this.  So happy, that it worked out for the best.  She might be a prisoner now, but at least she is alive.  He nods to her as he ushers them forward.  “Take them and lock them up.  And you two stand guard.  Prisoners are exempt from death.”_

_“Yes, Knight-Captain.”_

_He turns to leave them and one of his men stop him.  “Sir.  Has she truly gone mad?”_

_He regards the young man for a moment.  He takes a deep breath before answering.  “Only time will tell.  This act seems a bit extreme to me.  Particularly since an apostate is responsible for this tragedy, not these mages here.”_

_The man nods.  “I’m not sure about everyone else, but if it comes to it… I will stand with you.”  The other men in the room salute him in agreement.  Fists on their chests and bending at the waist.  He looks at her, her hands gripping the bars behind them._

_“Let us hope it doesn’t.”_

_He turns to leave.  To rejoin the battle, but she doesn’t want to be away from him.  He’s is her salvation.  She doesn’t know what possess her to speak now despite this, but the words leap off her tongue before she can stop them.  “I’m a healer.”_

_Every templar in the room turns to look at her.  She folds her arms and presses her hands against her ribs.  She steps back from the bars.  He turns back towards them and stalks forward.  “Speak, mage.”_

_“I… I am a healer, Knight-Captain.  I could…”_

_One of his men scoffs.  “As if we’d trust you not to…”_

_Cullen glares at him.  “Shut up.  What are you offering?”_

_“I… I’m sure some of your men have been wounded.  I could… I am very good at healing, sir.”_

_She wishes she could read his expression.  He looks at one of his men, standing there, holding his side.  Then back at her.  “Prove it.”  He nods to the man by the door.  “Release her.”_

_She rushes out of the door as soon as it is opened and rubs her hands together.  She stops in front of the young templar.  She can feel their eyes.  All of them buzzing with energy, all of it aimed at her.  She places her hands on his armor.  He is scared of her.  Scared that this is some trick.  Cullen moves to stand beside him.  He nods to her and she lets her magic flow into the lad.  He closes his eyes as she heals him.  She can feel his relief as the pain subsides.  He looks her in the eye.  “Thank you.”  She gives him a small smile before pulling her hands away._

_“What was wrong with him?”_

_“A few broken ribs.  Some bruising.  My guess… he got thrown.”_

_“It’s true.  I did.”_

_She wasn’t guessing of course.  She got it from his head.  They didn’t need to know that though.  Cullen bobs his head.  “You can come along, but stay close.  Any objections?”  When no one speaks, he heads for the door.  “Then we march.”_

Alyssa pulls her hands away with a jerk.  “Sorry, that went on longer than I intended.  No sense showing you things you were there for.”  She pushes back from him and leans against the ship.  She rubs her temples, “I’m exhausted.”

“To answer some of the questions you had in the past... I would have.  Saved you, that is.  I didn’t know how.  Helped you escape in the chaos.  I’m not sure, but I was working it before Hawke said to spare you.”

“Which likely would have meant your own death.  And many more besides.  They questions don’t need answers not, practically since that course of action never had to be followed.”

“And those kids survived.  Most of them anyway.  I sent them with the others to Starkhaven.”

“I know.  But I didn’t at the time.  You know how this works.  We see what we saw in that moment and the memory is not impacted by hindsight.”

They are quiet for a while.  Watching each other.  Then he looks out at the sea.  “I didn’t know you saw me like that.”

She nods and pulls her knees to her chest.  “I did.  I do.”

“Do?”

“Yeah.  I think a lot of people do now.  Those templars did.  And there are people who do now.  I don’t have to read their minds to recognize the look in their eyes when they see you.”

“It’s a lot of pressure.”

“Pressure you can handle.”

He shakes his head.  He brings his spread knees up, leans forward, and rests his elbows on them, letting his hands dangle in front of him.  He looks down, only to remember he can clearly see the churning sea below him and looks back up at her.  Her expression is gentle.  Whatever anger he had spurred in her before this last exchange is gone now.  “Again.  You have a lot of faith in me.”

“It’s not blind.  Nor it is untested.”  She rests her chin on her arms.  “Unlike all these recent… believers for lack of a better term, I have witnessed your greatness long before you got that thing on your hand, but enough of this.”  She waves a hand in the air and hops up.  “Everyone is going to think you fell overboard if you don’t return topside.”

He looks up at her.  “I’m not sure I want to.  It’s… nice… down here.  A little wet and to exposed for my liking, but nice.”

“Is it the location, the isolation, or the company?”  She jumps up to grab a rope.  “Don’t answer that.”  She pulls herself up and crawls onto the mast.  “Think you can get up here on your own?”

He doesn’t move.  “I’m serious.  I’m not ready to return to my role yet.”

She looks down at him, her legs straddling the wood, her feet swinging.  His head hangs but his eyes stay fixed on the wooden hull.  He keeps his left hand covered with his right.  “Are you sulking, Commander?”

He looks up at her quickly. “No.  Just… I need a little break from all the stares.  And I’d like to spend that break with you, if you don’t mind.”

She lays down on her stomach, looking down at him.  “Is my past distracting you from your present and future?”

“Yes, but it’s also nice to get a look at your past as you have mine.  I already feel like I know you better.”

“Oh?”

“Certain things make more sense now.”

“Such as?”

“Come back down here and I’ll tell you.”

She smiles and pushes up on her hands and knees.  “No.”  She laughs and stands.  She balances on the beam and walks back toward the deck.

“Aly!  Alyssa!  Get back here!”  He simply hears her laugh.  He shakes his head and pushes himself up.  He sighs and jumps up to return himself to the deck.  Not at all happy about her cutting their time together and the conversation, if you could call it that, short.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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